


Whispers of the Leaves

by starrymeis (meiqis)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Falling In Love, Light Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missing Persons, Mystery, Previous Minor Character Death, ambiguous developments, hallucinations & visions, previous family member passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/starrymeis
Summary: Their town was weird. No, scratch that, the whole island is weird, and he had never questioned it much because it had seemed so normal to him, to have grown up in a place like this. The forest behind his house looming tall and dark, emerald green that would be more inviting were it illuminated by the sun. Grand and scaring, Renjun hadn't ever planned to take a step behind fog filled borders, until Jeno went missing. And terrifying woods were easier to handle than the idea of losing another person dear to him.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee/Na Jaemin, Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: CAS summer 2020 games





	Whispers of the Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octie/gifts).



> Finally! Our most talked about CAS fics are here and let me proudly present you my own piece for lovely [octie](https://twitter.com/yawnedsoftly) ~~no, that was not planned~~
> 
> Writing mystery-ish fics is new to me so I can only hope to have managed well and, since it's mystery, I won't say much about it for now. At the end, you'll find the original prompt I have chosen! Which I love for the vibes but who knows how well I fared haha
> 
>  **trigger warnings** \- pre-story family member loss. illnesses. disappearances. pre-story suicide. panic attack like reactions. blood. auditory and visual _hallucinations_.

Their town was an eerie one. Renjun didn’t know what exactly that meant when, always, he had been more than happy living in this place that was something between a grand village and a tiny town, where the ocean winds whipped back the hoods that covered their faces and the air always tasted salty on his tongues. 

Their town was weird. It was what his mother had always said in the last weeks of her life, when pneumonia had gotten to her and made her bedridden, in between rounds of coughing and wheezing she had started talking in the high of fever but ever since, those words had not left Renjun’s mind. Their town _was_ weird. No, scratch that, the whole island is weird, and he had never questioned it much because it had seemed so normal to him, to have grown up in a place like this, with little tales of merfolk with sharp teeth to gnaw the flesh off the fingers of small rascals, of children who did not finish their fish, because they could smell their food on these dirty pads and knew whether what had been stolen from them was eaten or not. Their juvenile daily advice to not go into the woods, the forest looming tall and dark, emerald green that would be more inviting were it penetrated by the sun.

As it was, morning and morning again, there was fog pouring out between the trees, a sight that seemed so normal to Renjun who knew no else than that. It’s thin tendrils were a morning greeting to him, one he imagined to stretch forth in his directions like a hand held out for greeting, one he would like to grasp but was not able to for evaporated water could not be touched. Some several yards behind his back sat the closest house, the Lees and their turned on lights that gifted an eerie glow to the foggy arms in the grey morning light. The Lees always were up early but none of them left the house at a time similar to their own lying abandoned on top of the hill.

Sometimes he thought he could hear it, the clatter of their tableware and their laughter piercing the morning air despite how he should know better, how impossible such very deed was. Instead, what was given to him, was the sight of Jeno standing at the kitchen window, tentatively waving his hand at Renjun standing outside, the warm golden light that spoke tales of the oven having just been stacked with wood, the dreary grey of the skies that brought the usual rush of cold. Shortly, the older copied the movement, waved his hand curtly in lieu of a morning greeting, before he wrapped his coat tighter around himself and set down the path leading to the village. 

The most outstanding feature to the little town surely was the surprisingly modern harbor, the concrete pathway that split into a few wooden ones at which the fishermen liked to anchor their boats. Only the end of the pier was always kept empty, was kept empty for the bigger boats, be it for when a delivery for supplies came, or the seasonal visitors. Some rich families who thought a trip to such desolate place was _exhilarating_ or the lumberjacks that filled the taverns in winter to cut down the trees near the shore and where they had worked the year before, a new set of trees was usually ready to grow.

“You really grow them fast,” one of the men had told Renjun once when stopping by the shop, “your island is like the holy grail for us. ‘ve never quite seen something like this, boy.”

He hadn’t understood back then what that meant, what was so spectacular about tree saplings showing up and growing, because that’s just the way it was supposed to be. Things live and things die. Nothing grand about that.

Another tale his mom had enjoyed telling him as a kid had been the story of beautiful fairy that lured kids into their demise, those children that stepped foot into the woods, they would be lead to tables filled with food, bowls filled with the sweetest of punch. But dare they not drink nor touch, because those winged creatures were possessive, they were tending to their king only and those who risked touch what had been not manually gifted to them, would be punished heavily. Renjun had been scared of the little lights glowing between the trees in warm summer nights, until Jeno had introduced him to those, had caught some of those fireflies and kept them in a jar to keep him company in the dark. They had died within a day, cut off from oxygen, and Jeno had been mum for hours afterwards, tears wet in his eyes but too stubborn to spill them too. 

At that time, he had thought the woods to be safe again, had felt interest in venturing into those and his curiosity had sent him to the closest line of trees as well. Intrigued but a coward, he had rested against the trunk closest to his house and rested his back into it whilst pulling out a book to read, or scratch a piece of charcoal against spoiled letter paper his parents always kept by hand. Three days later, the Kim boy had gone missing, barely old enough to live on his own. For another four days, the village had been a hot mess unto a letter arrived, addressed for the Kims, a last memorabilia from their son telling them he had gone to find a new life. No second letter ever arrived. Five months later, the old lady from the other Lee family had gotten lost in the woods in an attempt to pick berries. Upon her return, she carried the sickness of many of the old, was forgetful and had no sense of orientation left, neither for place nor time. She had been healthy before that.

And Renjun was still a coward, he would never admit to, regardless of how alluring the woods were, they were scary all the same. They terrified him to his bones. Because their town was weird, their whole island was weird, but it was the place his heart was kept and trapped, there was no way he could go anywhere else.

The bell chimed above his head, without realizing he had reached his aim, the quaint little store sat between the tavern and the port, the former for the residents, not the one further down the waterway, where the lumberjacks resided for the durance of winter, secluded from most the residential buildings spread out. “Jisung,” he said almost automatically now, unwinding his scarf from around his neck to hang it on the hook behind the door before he ventured further inside the shop, behind the counter to turn on the heating first. “Jisung!”

“Renjun,” the young boy answered, popping out from behind a corner, eyes wide and startled behind his glasses, still dressed in his woolen coat, ever so sensitive to the cold. “Is it that time again?”

“Yeah…” The older pointed at the little box on the counter, gesturing from behind the wall as he was already on his way to the backroom to get to the manual heating, the stack of woods and the oven that was so much less problematic than the electric boiler that, ever so often, liked to clacker loudly after a few hours, head radiating in a wonky radius, and most his visitors didn’t stay long enough for this to matter. But it mattered to him, to being within the shop all day long and yearning for a cozy heat to warm his back, to find comfort even in the dull everyday of his work.

Work on the island was rare, most of it was manual labor related to the sea, be it the men heading out as the moon was reaching its peak to board a ship and throw the nets, or the boys who cleared the nets after fishing and looked for the holes their mothers would need to darn if they weren’t already busy with gutting the fish and leaving them to dry. The few fields they mended always had to be taken care of, not seldomly a labor shared between those who had time, and whatever they couldn’t grow by themselves was brought in by the ship i exchange of loading it with fish.

Every year, the woodcutters left them a few of the trunks to dry in the barns by the beach, shielded from the wet weather until the wood was dry for burning or aged for craft, and in exchange they had not needed to pay for those trees they took back to mainland for as long as Renjun could think. The little money they paid for rent and food was kept safe, invested in the expanses the whole of their small town needed. In a place as small as the civilized part of the island, one needed to look out for one another. 

That reason was why he had this job in first place. Jisung’s mother had fallen sick quite like Renjun’s own had the winter before, and with the old Park heeding to the town’s every need in his role as mayor, it was the young boy’s duty to look after his sick parent. The shop the middle-aged lady had inherited from her mother had been without a guard since a while now, and Renjun much preferred this kind of labor over manning a ship early in the morning time and time again. Indeed, they had to look out for one another, take care of each of their village’s members because who else could but them? The pocket money he earned from it, saved up diligently for every bit of art supplies he craved, was welcome, and the talks he had with strangers a pleasantry sweetening his days.

Alas, it did not mean he could get along with everyone albeit he was familiar with them all, with the elders sitting at home, the grannies knitting scarves and socks for every younger habitant of this island were a pleasantry to talk to, many of which outlived their husbands by a decade or more, male bodies worked into ruin from strenuous work. The mothers looking after their children, ushering them inside after a long day taking turns teaching them, he had grown to know all their names. It wasn’t difficult, not when they had barely twenty dozen people living in this remote place. And still, there were few of his age, and even less he got along with.

“Injunnie,” a voice chirped, greeting him sooner than he would have liked. Jisung had long since left, had delivered the food Renjun had prepared for his father and likely picked up some fish to cook his own mother a meal, had left him alone in the small store that carried a bit of everything. And as was so befitting of their routine, the dirty blonde was already out and about to bother him again, smelling more of the sea than the fish, traces of oil on his canvas coat that Renjun could no longer remember were old or new. “I shall return this to you.”

Held out to him by Jaemin’s hands was the lunch box prepared for his father, emptied of its content but one too many had already been lost. Renjun would much rather he take them home himself than have his father forget them in the pub once again. Silently the boy snatched it from calloused hands, hands that were on a well way to look like his father’s only a few years into work. The people leaving this island were little, a case or two every year, each of them followed by a single letter stating to have left for the land. One letter. A second was never to come.

Every once in a while, another stranger would settle, fallen in love with a resident like Jaemin’s own brother-in-law had too. A man whose ship had keeled over, a man abandoned on the sea until the currents had been kind enough to bring him here. Treated by Haeryung, fallen in love, settling down. They were awaiting their second child soon, as laughable as it seemed for the younger Na to become an uncle at such tender age. 

“You returned it,” Renjun answered as he grabbed the box and placed it on the table to his right, next to his cup of still steaming tea. “Now you can leave.” He ignored the little twitch to the younger’s smile, the short dimming of a spark in bright eyes, as if Jaemin had never quite gotten used to his crude ways. It was laughable, as laughable as the Na family situation, because they had grown up right along each other, with Jaemin spending so many days at Jeno’s house, a constant figure in his life, a daily sight even outside their daily teachings that must be quite subpar to what was taught in a proper school.

There had been a time Renjun had been flustered by the boy, in between being annoyed by his chirpy and excited ways as child and constant bothering as adult Jaemin had made him flush a bright red. Before he had caught on to what a flirt the blond could be, running his mouth and then his hands around every young female spending the weeks of summer on this island with family, greedy for touch and attention. Renjun disdained it, found it annoying to look at, and all the more when such habit had not stopped with the sun kissed summer girls. 

When the younger was still around by the time he reached for his mug, the clerk’s eyes rose, observing such pretty face. At least he had been told it was pretty by strangers, by the lumberjacks writing letters to their families in the store for Renjun to hand over to the captain, by some of the holiday visitors who complimented him as well, speaking about how handsome every person on this island seemed to be, features that would be envied and searched for on the mainland so much. He had not questioned it, accepted it as it was. When supposedly everyone was supposedly on such high level, it was hard to find anyone standing out, was difficult to say whether Jaemin was any more handsome than the other people occupying this land. 

Lightly he raised his eyebrow in question, prompting the fisherman to speak, “We’re celebrating Yuji’s engagement later. Do you want to join us? I’d love to-”

“No,” Renjun interrupted, more abrupt than he should. He had heard about it, about her engagement to another foreigner, but this was not a lane he wanted to walk, did not want to be part of those conversations that would inevitably lead to her brother too. Jaehyun had drowned, on his birthday a bit more than two years ago. Had thrown himself off the cliffs and into the sea. Apparently, his sister had been the only witness of eye, had remained locked in her room until even summer had passed only to board the ship on a whim, leaving for another half a year. When she had returned, she had brought back a boyfriend by her side, had said she could not bear the knowledge of leaving her brother’s memories behind. Renjun had never been particularly close to them, but the story had broken his heart. He did not want to be part of this, unroll this again.

“Renjun, everyone will-”

“No!” Renjun cut Jaemin’s pleading off a bit harsher now, grip tightening around his mug as he glared at the boy. Jaemin was blessed. Unlike what many of them had gone through, he had never lost a member of his family, on the contrary, it had grown. He could not possibly understand. “You should leave now. I’m tired of your sight.”

Without another word, he skittered back with his chair and went to the room behind, settled on the counter beneath the stairs leading to the upper floor, where the Parks lived and Jisung’s ill mother was kept warm. Renjun’s wounds were fresh, an animal still licking at its injuries, and Jisung’s soon would be too. Losing one’s mother was tough, regardless of how common an occurrence it was. She had always been there for him, had kept him close in stormy nights when his father had left for the sea, had told him the stories surrounding their home, had seen him bawl his eyes out over heartbreak for the first time. Without her, there was a hole in his chest, an empty spot in his life, and he did not feel prepared to hear the story of another’s dear loss. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

It was already dark by the time he closed the shop behind himself, the concrete path against which the waves crashed with nightly vigor illuminated by the lights of the pub, lantern hung up outside. There had once been a lamp but after the last storm it had malfunctioned and caused the whole house to fall into dark. After that, the old Lee had declared they return to traditional lights, at least for outside, and now there it was. 

Few people stood outside, some of which Renjun found easy to discern even from the distance. Johnny stood tall, cigarette in his hand, accompanied by Taeyong and Mark, the latter occupied with the same task. If the brothers stood outside despite the busy time, it must mean Jeno or Jaemin or possibly both had jumped in to man the counter for the few minutes’ time. Albeit he suspected that Taeyong had only tagged along to make sure his brother and best friend were not caught up in yet another discussion or sorts.

The tallest was the first to spot him, and while there were other paths for Renjun to go home and evade such chance, bypass the other boys on his way, the weather was cold and the night dark, he did not want to take the detour and possibly trip on paths less familiar with him. Glowing in the dark was the red spot of the lit tip as Johnny waved his hand in greeting, “Jun, hey! Did you finish up? Finally joining us, dude?”

Renjun didn’t dare look at either of the brothers, eyes stern on Johnny’s face, the welcoming and open expression, as he shook his head in silent dismissal. He offered no more of an explanation as he meant to walk past, but possibly he was looking exhausted enough for the older to no longer question, expression softening in empathy, long arm reaching forth to keep the younger in place. “Hey, man,” Johnny started softly, ever so compassionate it had Renjun feel almost guilty for denying him, “Let’s have a drink soon, yeah? Just the two of us.”

Taeyong made a noise of protest and this time around, be it the guilt eating him up or the cold of loneliness that crept through Renjun’s bones for too long, he did not refuse. His best attempt at a smile on his lips as he curtly nodded his head, carefully wrangled his arm free from the soothing hold so he could go on. Like he had been unable to look at the brothers before, he did not dare look back, observe what kind of expression they would wear, and how contradictory it was, the loneliness growing within his self and yet he had refused the company for a night, evaded all those he knew so well, had grown up around. Something small and dark, a budding seed like those saplings in wet soil, it told him that even surrounded by as many people he would feel no less lonely, and at worst he would feel all the more alone. 

Their house on top of the hill stood lonely, a solemn building out of reach of others, distanced and alone, it seemed to resemble his standing in life all too well. Not even the lights of the Lee house managed to make it look any more welcoming, a symbol of solitude and, regardless, he thought the forests behind to look all the lonelier. A pile of trees, like toothpicks in the sand, branches touching, leaves entwining, and yet it looked so lonely. Long abandoned place, void of life and spirit, it seemed to echo within his heart. Resonated within his core like a pitiful mirror image.

Stepping into the barely there warmth of his home, he didn’t bother call out for his father who’d need to leave in a few hours again. He only stacked more wood into the dimming embers before he went to cook, prepare his dinner and his father’s breakfast at once, the second serving left standing on the table as he ate on his own, ghost of his mother’s presence in front of his eyes, sat on the stool across him, her sparkling eyes and tinkling laughter. He missed it, even after more than a year, he missed her.

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

After the recent brighter days, it seemed the weather was mocking them again, turning colders in its wake and Renjun was not certain he was thankful for it or not. The laundry dried faster as he hung it up outside, the warmth of it evaporating in the chilly temperatures, a startling contrast on his fingers, the heated moist of fabric contradicting the biting noon air. At the end of this he was certain his skin would be chipped, torn by the cold and aching for days until they had healed over again. It might take a while.

Forlornly his gaze drifted to the side, to the house some several yards to the side. Since a week now the Lees had been quite, stuck in solemn pain that echoed with a pang in Renjun’s heart. Heavy silence had befallen the town since half of it, since Jeno had not returned home but neither had the ever same letter arrived. His heart had ached already before, once he had heard about his best friend’s easy dismissal, a loss he was not certain he could take.

When his mother had left his side, he had not cried, he had remembered to remain mum by her empty bed’s side as if his will would make her return, as if he had not seen her body be cremated by the shore, ashes collected into a plain urn to be buried next to all his other family members before. He was supposed to be fortunate, at least there had been ashes to fill the jar, a jar to bury unlike the empty graves, no holes dug before the stone had been placed, a memorial for a body never to be found again. In the worst cases, there was not even such, a single rose placed on the soil upon the arrival of written words, a gesture to remember a life that had been, when no one knew what had become of them. 

This time now, he wanted to cry out loud, wanted to scream and yell at Jeno for leaving him, for his best friend to abandon him when Jeno had been the one to pull him out of his misery the winter before. A steady presence, the boy who had played ball within his sight whilst he had read, the kid always offering to partner up during class, to go there and walk home hand in hand. How dare Jeno leave, Jeno of all people, who had promised to stay by his side. 

His sight blurred, his eyes stung, and he hastily hung the last of their sheets before reaching to grab the basket and head back inside. Flicker of red, he almost believed it to be a trick of his mind, an illusion of his vision to drive him insane like Johnny’s aunt who had gone mad upon knowing her parents had been siblings too. Her wailing had lasted for days until she had screamed herself into madness. She had not been the same since.

Scarlet still wafted with the wind, trapped between the branches of the trees marking the border of the forest, a shade of red that seemed so awfully familiar, more than he could take. Steps rushed, halting to a stop, fingers trembling as he traced along the knitted red. A hue so known to him, one he knew better than anyone else for he had been the one to knit it under his mother’s prying eyes, at the tender age of fifteen he had gifted it to Jeno during a shared Christmas night. It was a treasured gift, one he could see around his best friend’s neck every winter since, too meaningful to be abandoned like this.

As if it had been left behind intentionally, a mark meant to see, like a key lying around waiting to be put in a lock, it felt more like a passage to the truth than a lost item. It was not torn as if someone had ran away, let it catch onto the branches as it was forced off their neck. Carefully hung, right in sight, it drove the cold to Renjun’s bones he was certain he was not supposed to feel, bundled in so many layers of cloth. 

For a moment he thought to hear a scream, distant and so far away, that had him frozen in place like his laundry in winter, stiff like icicles but perfectly dry when taken inside. It had been Jeno’s voice, he was certain of that, Jeno’s cry for help or a scream of agony or an outburst of anger, he-

“Injunnie!” A voice interrupted him, the cheerful tone he detested so much, all the more now. His grip tightened on the knit wool as he took it off the branch carefully, he wanted to keep it safe and guard until Jeno was to return, and he would see to Jeno returning to his side. “Injun, hey!”

Renjun tenderly hugged the scarf to his chest prior turning around, crossing the few dozen yards until he had arrived to his house next to which Jaemin had stopped, still rambling on, “Your father told me to bring you some fish and- Hey, isn’t that Jeno’s sca- Injun!” A startled yelp escaped the younger’s lips, tan fingers closed around Renjun’s wrist who wanted to scream when it was yanked forward, only to halt in motion when seeing the same thing as Jaemin did. “Did you get hurt? Injunnie, we should get that bandaged, we-”

“Scarf…” Eyes wide with shock, the smaller looked at the red wool kept in his hands, feeling damp beneath his fingers which were dyed red as he pulled them away. It was warm when it shouldn’t be, was wet when even his laundry had started to get stiff, was just the right color to mimic an injury. It clouded his sight that was dotted with white little bursts, and strength left him sooner than he’d like.

Tea was sat steaming in front of, the green leaves floating around it because Jaemin had not thought of using a sieve prior preparing it, had poured too much hot water on too few herbs, and the amount of honey drizzled into it was concerning. Renjun was not sure he could drink it if he wanted, ended up carefully pushing it away from his side of the table instead. If Jaemin felt offended, he did not show.

“That’s Jeno’s scarf, isn’t it?” The younger finally asked, and albeit only a few minutes had passed since their encounter outside, to the host of this meeting it felt like too much time anyways. Minutes that had stretched on, been amplified by his almost blacking out, it all seemed distorted, the scream still echoed within his mind, his fingers curled into the tabletop until even a splinter lodging itself beneath his nail awas no longer felt.

With a heavy sigh, Jaemin sat down, eyes warm and filled with concern, taking in Renjun’s tense frame. “Injun-ah… He’s not even on this island anymore, he’s left with the ship come morning last week. You should not-”

“He’s not,” Renjun whispered, words that felt so frail on his tongue, like an empty promised filling in as he repeated, “He’s not… gone… He’s still around and- and-” His shoulders dropped, fight leaving him. In all his caring nature, Jaemin had wiped his hands clean, no longer painted in red, not leaving any other smear of blood than the one where the skin beneath his nail had torn and was oozing red.

“And?” Jaemin prodded, arms crossed where they were placed on top of the table. For how joyful he could usually be, now he seemed oddly serious, focused and nearly… concerned… It was a weird thing to associate with a man Renjun had only met with rudeness in the recent years. “And what, Injun? We all know he’s gone so what more-”

“He’s not gone!” The older yelled, suddenly, hands slammed down onto the table as his eyes brimmed with tears again. He would feel shame for crying in front of a boy whose company he did not like were it not for the frustration so intense it felt like searing anger consuming all of his body. A piece of dry wood thrown into a raging fire. “He promised he would never leave, Jaemin, so don’t speak like you know about him. His scarf has not been there yesterday, Jaemin, so who do you think hung it when he wears it every day? You think a boy stupid enough to jump into the winter sea to save it would willingly leave it hanging in the forests? What are you even thinking in this sex crazed head of yours?”

Beneath his fingers, he could still feel the table tremble from the impact of his push, in this moment of his own feelings being too much for him to handle. Some of this horrid tea had spilled, was prevented from soaking into the wood because of its oily surface, protecting it from its daily abuse, soaked with it every half a year. It had felt befitting to do it now, when he had so desperately needed to get his mind off matters. 

In front of him, Jaemin sat startled, something resembling hurt on his face but no will to fight, and the smaller no longer knew whether it worked like water or oil to his burning flames. Pushing at boulders twice his height was a useless project, he would not be able to move it, and yet he wanted to scream, shout his feelings at someone, get all these pent up emotions out of his system like a fever under warm blankets. 

He had felt lonely for over a year, he was dependant on Jeno’s support, on those arms catching him whenever he fell, and the idea of this too having been taken from him… Wetness spread downwards his face but he did nothing to stop it, might as well bite his lips bloody in his attempt to stifle all sobs. 

His mother had always told him not to go into the forests, to stay away from the whispers of mad and the treacherous promises of the fae, poisonous plants and wild animals, and whatever shuddery tales a storyteller was able to come up with. But his mom was already gone, stolen from his side by nature’s sick humor, and Jeno… If there was even the slightest chance of saving him, or finding him, of knowing what had happened - he was ready to jump right in, bear the risk of it like his idiot of a best friend had done to save a scarf from drowning.

“I’ll find him,” he promised, fingers trembling where he had splayed them out on top of the table plate, his body jittering in agitation as he looked down, “I’ll find out where he went and bring him back, Jaemin. You can’t stop me.”

“Okay,” the younger agreed, without a beat of hesitation, no second had passed between their words, and the blond drew a shaky breath, “Okay, that’s… okay. But I’ll come with.”

And like a sudden cloudburst, dread washed down Renjun’s spine like an icicle stuffed below all his layers of cloth. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

The woods still looked scary even when he was about to set foot into them, the fog that was creeping out between the barren trunks, creeping long digits of winter cold. Overgrown fingers that beckoned him closer, lured him in, to attempt finding out the truth he was so desperately yearning for. It was impolite to leave anyone waiting, his mother had always told him such, so he could only assume this applied to trees, too. Were they supposed to be aligned a persona? He could not actually say and yet it felt so wrong to not regard them as such, to not consider them a person he should mind. 

One shaky breath, it was all he allowed himself as he tied the freshly washed scarlet garment around his neck. He hadn’t dared leave it behind, the last piece of Jeno he was able to carry, he wanted to keep it closeby, to have it warm himself in the same way he had always wished for Jeno to stay warm, the way he craved to know Jeno was warm now. Time was a precious little thing, too much of which had already passed, and the odd sensation within his guts of the lumberjacks leaving and marking the arrival of spring for their town sat heavy within his guts. 

“Hey!” A warm voice greeted him, rough from the early morning hour, simultaneously as a hand came down heavy on his shoulders. Renjun, unmanly as it was, almost screeched in shock, twisting his shoe toes in the solid ground as he twirled around, stumbling a few steps from the impact. Breath felt like water in his lungs and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of Mark by his side, most of the boy’s face hidden by his scarf and hat, eyes sparkling despite the lack of light eerie. “I made us coffee?” Like an offer, the silver bottle was held out to the younger, steam coming through the simple outlet on top, warm despite the chilly time. 

“I don’t drink coffee,” Renjun simply stated, not to mention that dragging more than one bottle around seemed highly useless, an idea befitting for someone spending their days working serving alcohol. “What are you doing here?”

“Injun-ah!” Jaemin’s voice sounded from a distance, arms cheerfully raised, not the least burdened by the backpack on his shoulders, jump in his steps that was too cheerful for the early hour. Suddenly even the forests seemed more welcoming, and this time around Renjun did not hesitate in crossing the border of trees, venturing into foreign lands.

Hours passed like this, hours that felt like gum stretched thin, the rare treat they were to receive as children with the weekly supply but even that tradition seemed to have stopped nowadays. Sometimes Granny Na made toffees but those did long since not serve that same purpose at all. The weather, barely enough to allow leaving behind his woolen coat in favor for a thicker linen one and one more pullover, would warm soon enough, would turn warmer throughout their hike, one he was not sure how long would last. 

Several decades ago, he had been told, when the island had been inhabited first, a man had gone out to measure the span of the island. A well trained man who had prided himself in taking three days only, always sticking close to the waterside, sleeping for as little as his body allowed when not knowing what kinds of animals lingered around. The one and only man to ever have done such a deed, no one dared copy it after him when the first stories of missing people had come up. 

It had been worse, his mother had told him, in the beginning of it all, many more men had disappeared but at such times, at the beginning of the prior century, not many means of communication had been around. The men on the island had been prisoners, could not leave and only stay, some of which so violent fights had broken out resulting in the bemoaned loss of one of their helpers. Their blood had run thick into the soil, had been soaked even in a dreary winter’s time, swallowed by the earth as was water by a thirsting man. Be it a blessing or a curse, this life gifted or wasted on their ground, it was a matter of perspective alone. What remained was only bits and pieces, snippets of stories here and there, pages from diaries found in their attics still. One detail Renjun very well remembered was that, back then, no one had questioned whether they’d return and how, whether they had been murdered in their sleep or jumped off a cliff. They were desperate men left alone on an island without strangers - murderers and robbers, crimes he did not want to consider. And yet it was the very same land on which he had grown.

If any of those two dared ask now where he went, he would not have an answer of his own. _Following my guts_ , hardly seemed a reasonable response when those two were walking behind his lead, and yet, what were they even doing there. This was his adventure to follow, not theirs, his baseless and stupid decision because of attached care, was his danger to face and not a chance of theirs to take. He could not understand it, could not understand them, and yet he did not feel brave enough to ask it either. 

He did not want to admit it, that their company was soothing his heart, a silent reassurance he was not alone in the depth of these woods his mother had always warned him about. Their steady breath was a resemblance of humanity amidst the flutter of bird wings and rustling of branches, it was more than one pair of boots hitting solid ground and his steps echoing about. It brought him solace and unease at once, glad he was not alone but a part of him wished he were. At least then he would not need to worry about them.

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

Renjun really, _really_ wished he had left them behind come evening. Both had been smart enough to bring along sleeping bags and some dried food - fruits and nuts, bread and cheese, some fish to gnaw on. But the way bigger problem, and it was why he was so upset, was that neither of them had considered to bring along a tent. His own was not the sturdiest, he had dug it out from the attic when his father had bought it for him as a child, when he had thrown a temper tantrum and declared he wants to live on his own. One call to the captain, the next day there was a tent amidst their weekly supply and it was placed in the garden for Renjun to sleep in. 

Back then it had seemed so grand, a tent for two adults for a child alone. Not it seemed awfully small, the idea of all three of them having to squeeze inside was making him claustrophobic, and if only his sense of responsibility kept him from telling them to sleep outside. The idea of his own stay in the fresh air seemed very well welcome now. 

He hadn’t talked to Jaemin since they had stopped receiving tutoring from those in charge of teaching in town, he hadn’t had a proper conversation with Mark throughout most of his life and most their encounters were reduced to his order of drinks at the pub. To suddenly have to share more than a bed, his whole breathing space, with those two, was too much. He took time to grow familiar with other people, he was more than aware of that himself, there was no _from zero to hundred_ for him, that was too much in too little time. 

“I’ll… go get water,” he said instead of answering nor explaining, bottle in his hand as he turned on his heels. Only a few yards down the clearing he knew there was a little creek, water inside so clear he didn’t have no worries, unspoken security wedged deep within his guts. It felt almost freezing as he dipped his bottle inside, taking a few gulps before he filled it up again so they’d have some liquid to cook their soup with. 

Despite the short distance, he couldn’t hear Mark’s nor Jaemin’s voice, an eerie natural silence engulfing him. Not talking to them didn’t mean he wasn’t familiar with their selves, with their natural tilt towards looking out for others, possibly preparing dinner or putting up their place for rest for the night. Looming awareness of such truth, it made him uncomfortable to have no proof of his assumptions, only the murmur of the wind caressing the twigs and leaves, the chortling of water freezing his fingers in place as if he was trapped within a block of solid ice much rather than the flowing stream of wet.

_Did you know your trees regrow in always the same count? I was bored the first time I did it, counting all one hundred eighty-four of them. The next year I did it out of curiosity, but it’s the fifth year in a row now. Don’t you think it’s a peculiar count?_

The lumberjack who had told him had been a kind one. A bit gruff, red beard, a foreigner even though he had heard from mainland that they were rather rare for their country. Only the tongue he had spoken with had been moving smoothly, not tripping over syllables, a kind smile shaping his eyes, and Renjun had always easily remembered him. The year after, he had no longer shown up. Instead, Renjun had counted the newest trees. All one hundred and eighty-four of them.

_The human body consists of two hundred and six bones. From the biggest - the thigh bone - down to the smallest - your eardrum. Two hundred and six bones! Isn’t that impressive, my dears?_

Johnny’s mum had taught them about biology before Haeryung had taken over, after she had returned from her studies of medicine. The incline between her return and Jaehyun’s suicide had been small, it only occured to Renjun now, as he remained frozen in his spot.

“We like to keep the skulls of our offenders, little boy.” Whispering voice, it seemed shrill in his ears, like nails scratching glass, tearing it down, it hurt. The trees around him suddenly seemed all too near, as if they were closing in on him, their branches reaching out, leaves stretching in his direction. “A keepsake for our Lady. Wouldn’t you like to know, little boy? Why there are so many trees in our yards every year?”

Two hundred and six bones. _Twenty-two of which make up your skull!_ One hundred and eighty-four trees. _…the fifth year in a row…_

“Renjun!”

In an instant, the water let up around him, the trees had returned to their place, no longer forming a cycle tilting towards the center that was him, they just swayed with the breeze, solid in their stance.

“Renjun!” Mark’s voice called again, and this time the boy did look up to see the oldest of their bunch waving him closer to where the tent had already been put up and a fireplace lit, little flames dancing with mirth, as if they were a mockery to his thoughts. In Jaemin’s hands was a pot, reminding him of his purpose as he quickly got up to walk back to their little camp, only glimpsing back at the trees one last time.

Not an hour later, post dinner and cleaning up and crowding together in the too small tent, Mark in the middle for getting so easily cold, Renjun still felt suffocated, not only by their proximity. His feet hurt, he wasn’t used to walking as much, his stomach felt too empty after their measly meal, his mind was still spinning after this short sort of… vision. He didn’t really have a better word for it. And despite the warmth that came from staying together in the tent, the mats isolating their bodies from the ground and sleeping bags keeping them warm, he felt cold inside out. Well aware that his skin was warm, that it was not his body feeling frozen, it was a chill he could not shake off, as those ever same words kept replaying since an hour in his mind, words of the past and his played mind, imagination running wild and yet it seemed to real, like a truth that was right in front of his mind but like herbs in hot water, it took time for it to tint, for the full picture to be realized, and he had no guarantee he wanted to see. 

The forests _were_ scary. Renjun reminded himself to never doubt his mother again, not when she had always been right, not when every year the lumberjack had counted one person had left their island again. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

“It’s funny _,_ ” his mother had told him one day in spring, her bigger hand holding onto his tiny one as they had walked along the shore, his juvenile doe eyes always on the lookout for a pretty pair of shells, “That the Lees have Jaehee now… I grew up with her, you know, Junnie? With Misses Lee. And she always told me how she pitied not being able to receive children so much…”

“What’s this mean, Ma?” Renjun’s younger version had asked, little orbs sparkling in the afternoon sun but his attention span no better than a dog’s in front of a treat. A pretty glimmer between grains of sand and he had bent down, had pulled out the piece of shell that had drawn his attention in first place.

From above, his mother had given a gentle squeeze to his hand, asking for his attention once again. “Did you ever hear the stories of a changeling, my little shell?”

A changeling, Renjun remembered still, originally was an elven or impish kid replaced with a humane one. It would grow up in their midst and learn from them, so upon return it was wiser about their ways until one day a Lord of Lords would emerge and overthrow those threatening the fae kind entirely. The human children raised were oftentimes the rank of a slave, unless their beauty could entice the Lady or Queen, they would be mistreated, like cattle and servants at once. Their meat torn off their bones the day they could no longer work, devoured, digested, a meal of screaming fun. 

He was vaguely certain she had told him a few stories that day, of changelings and their families, of humans who had returned to their blood related to have gone crazy, reacting badly to the lack of magic surrounding them, the alien food, and way too fast had the blood they stemmed from tainted their hands. A cruel story, like most fairy tales were, but a childish mind got excited by them, terrified and delighted a like. It was a tragedy he could no longer remember them, had forgotten them as he had done with too many stories his mother had told him, a faint memory, dull knowledge, he could no longer recall. 

There had been other names his mother had told him, times she had whispered into his ear when taking him to school, telling him who was a changeling and who was not, mischief in her tone, bright to her voice. He had giggled, then, had thought it a joke, had made a game out of guessing who was one and who was not, had imagined their eyes growing to a comical size, their ears elongated, with pointy tips, had drawn messy sketches onto his notes which his mother had laughed about. He missed the trickling sound of it, like fairy wings fluttering, sunlight turned into sound. Her joy, her laughter, her poking mischief - he missed that most, out of all her traits. 

Pixie feathers fluttering in the breeze, jingling wind chimes, it followed him into many of his dreams, accompanied his morning minutes of waking up, when reality is just out of reach, closer to the realm of dreams than the alive walking. Minutes like these, tales told it’s when the curtain between the fae and humane is thinnest, when truths can be seen, nothing can be hidden away. Those who do not belong, they are seen, and lies are perceived.

His mother’s chiming snickers were ringing in his ears, leaves kissed by the wind rustling, as Renjun’s blurry sight revealed the view of pointed ears. Smooth and elongated, tinted green with the way the sun shone through the fabric tent, freckled by light thanks to the moving trees, he could barely make them out did his eyes fall close again, sleep embracing him with welcoming arms. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

It happened on their third day, when the ground was slippery, moss wet on the stones when they had to challenge a short hike up a hill. Squelching beneath his boots, sucked into the moss, leather rubbing into the sore spots on his soles, on his heels, on his ankles - he had thought it to be the worst they could possibly feel. One moment, one second of carelessness, on a path he found strenuous, needing to hold onto lithic walls for a good enough grip. Behind him, he could hear the mishap taking place, the wet sound of slipping heels, slap of dry and moist, heavy weight falling to solid ground.

Three was supposed to be a lucky number, steady and secure, a balanced triangle that wouldn’t tip, a table with three legs that wouldn’t fall. It was supposed to be safe, guaranteed like the effectiveness of Pythagoras’ rule. 

Renjun didn’t yet dare turn around, the ground was slippery and he didn’t want to cause another mishap, but when he heard Mark’s pained wail he reconsidered. His own hesitancy stood out strikingly stark compared to Jaemin’s lack of, who had already sat Mark on a boulder and knelt down, tan fingers wrapped around dirtied boots to carefully turn Mark’s foot this way and that. Certain movements caused sharp pain, as based on the older’s reactions, and each of them felt like a stab to Renjun’s heart.

“You shouldn’t have come along,” is what he wanted to say, because now Mark had gotten injured, and it wasn’t in his favor, but none such word left his lips. Instead he took hold of the little cliff side that framed the current part of their path on one side and slithered the few yards down, until he was next to them. Jaemin’s expression was sufficient, it wasn’t grim enough to hint at a serious injury but sufficient worry portrayed to note it wasn’t just harmless faltering either. A heavy sigh left his lips, his hand shot forward before he could think better of it. “Give me your backpacks.” _You won’t make it up there on your own. Don’t burden yourself too much._

There was protest in Mark’s eyes, comically wide and lips already parted for speech, but it was cut off before it was ousted, by Jaemin’s hands peeling away at the oldest’s backpack already. There it was again, this uncanny ability of Jaemin’s to read between the lines Renjun had never once written. He wondered whether it had to do with how much more time they had spent together, taught together in the same class, growing up, all this precious time, before Renjun had reared back, hidden away in his room with sketchbooks and foggy whispers of the night. There had been days it had scared him, he had teased the younger to be able to read minds, and those thoughts returned again, outside wooden whispers and leaves leaning down. 

Mark’s backpack weighed heavy in his hands but he didn’t falter - didn’t dare falter in front of an injured and one despised - so he just slung it around his front, covering his stomach for his back was occupied. His gaze traveled to Jaemin again, expectantly, Renjun was ready to burden himself with another piece of luggage for the day, but the younger only shook his head. Silent in his ways of helping Mark up, carrying half the pub boy’s weight to set out again. Worry painted his features, Renjun could recognize as much, but when Jaemin shooed him forwards with a tilt of his head, he didn’t dare protest. How unfair it was, for the youngest of their bunch to hold so much authority at this current time.

Envy twisted his guts, turned them this way and that, churning and pressing, and he couldn’t let it out, could only go on his way to lead them up, along the rocky walls and between mossy trees, trying to find the least steep way until they reached a plateau. The ground was even again, no rise nor fall, but a fallen tree conveniently placed between boulders and bushes.

“Injun-ah,” Jaemin called out, already heading there, to carefully let Mark down. “Let’s take a break for a minute. Mark can’t go on like this-”

“Hey-”

“I’ll look for a place to sleep.” He didn’t dare spare them a look, their gentle bickering, their easy proximity. There were only so many months Renjun had spent away from them, his spirits slowly dulling, his brightness dimming, but the effects were too palpable. More so with Jaemin than anyone else, whom he had started to avoid even before his mother’s death. Friendships that were made for life, his father called them, the companionships forged in their town. It was because no one ever left, Renjun reasoned, an island was an island, secluded and cut off. They had no other options but get close to the people they were surrounded with since birth.

  
  


Mark had been first to retreat for the night, but Renjun couldn’t even blame him. A sprained ankle, nothing too bad, it would be better within a few days of rest when the rest he should take was actually of a few weeks time. So many shortcomings, Renjun had never realized how many he had, his thoughts haunting him now, whispers of the wind flowing into his mind.

_You didn’t even pack your necessities well, young boy._

Decision of Jaemin and Mark coming along had not been his, they had just decided on their own, not consulting him. Two more people whom he had dragged along in his mess, into his desperate efforts of not losing another person he loved. But how many had he lost when he had started to retreat like a snail in its shell...

_What if you had tripped? All alone, no friends by your side, no one to help you out-_

“They’re not my friends,” Renjun whispered, not knowing whose question he answered in first place. There was no one around, was but the leaves rustling and branches creaking, the distant flutter of a moth and twigs breaking beneath whatever mammal’s feet. Tree bark rough against his back, he hadn’t felt ready to join Jaemin and Mark in the tent yet, whose hushed voices he could hear past the waxed canvas without being able to make out certain words. They were close still, hadn’t had no reason to break links like Renjun had done, heart suffocated by agony and pain, heart breaking for too many reasons, and his fingers traced along the knots of the knitted scarf he wore around his neck in Jeno’s stead.

“Not your friends, huh?” Jaemin’s voice resounded, and Renjun just about jumped in his place sat on the ground, toppling over if not for the strong hand taking hold of his shoulder, keeping his movements in check, and he wasn’t certain it was to prevent any more accidents or his flight. “That’s harsh, Injun. Who’re you talking to anyways?”

_That’s right, young boy, who are you talking to? Speaking to yourself, there’s no one to listen to what you say._

“No one, I guess…” Nervously Renjun averted his gaze, did not know how to answer this now but trying to change directions seemed useless. “We better go to sleep now-” His attempts at getting up were hindered, weight coming down on his shoulder, keeping him in place like a boulder on his chest. Never had he realized how much the times at sea had changed Jaemin’s physique, had only ever looked at Jaemin’s hands, calloused and rough, none of the juvenile softness his own seemed to hold regardless of the years. Jaemin had grown up, had grown older and out of his reach because he had pushed the younger away.

“Huang Renjun.” Serious tone of voice, Renjun was familiar with it, was the kind of pitch Jaemin had used on them whenever Jeno and he had thought, when their class’ angel was in charge of peacemaking and mediating. Memory of all these happenings were sufficient to run shivers down his spine as if cold fingers were tracing his vortices. “I’m not certain whatever happening motivated you to become so deprived of faith of us but we do care about you. Jeno does, and so do Mark and I, and Taeyong and Jisung and whoever else knows you as well as we do. But we care. And we still consider you a friend.”

It was suffocating, those same fingers squeezing around his heart, making sure it was a wrecked mess within his chest, beating too hard. There had been a time he had wanted to hear these words from Jaemin, wanted proof the younger cared for him, maybe more than for anyone else. “What if I don’t want to be your friend?”

Cruel little words, an iron shield of ignorance and bless when, behind it, he felt small surrounded by high trees and Jaemin’s looming presence. Because Jaemin was captivating, in his own unique ways, someone to get along with everyone regardless of how he felt outside social situations. Renjun knew, because he had seen it, the way Jaemin would sit near the water on the pier, cup of what must be coffee in his hands, and just watching the sea. A peaceful sight, the most peaceful and content he had ever seen Jaemin who seemed to flourish beneath attentive and eager eyes. A contrast he hadn’t dared question throughout the years.

“Then we’ll be something different to friends. I’ll make sure of that.” A declaration like that, it seemed to so easily leave Jaemin’s lips, certainty entailed that Renjun felt envious of. All the same it was a threat, something heavy layered between these words, and he was not able to make out what it was about no matter how long he stared into Jaemin’s eyes, so dark and deep, black holes sucking him in, addictive on their own. It made Renjun breathless, and nothing yet had happened in first place. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

The grey hues of morning light, diffused by the fog creeping around the forest floors looking so inviting and terrifying all at once, were barely there, evident enough to be perceived by Renjun’s bleary sight. It was a challenge to sleep in foreign surroundings, accompanied by Jaemin’s light snores and Mark’s kicking the blanket, the space they all shared so tight, decreased further by their backpacks and supplies, legs angled and knees knocking into one another’s. Such a difference to his cozy bed at home, mattress worn in just the right ways, cuddly blankets piled on top of his body he was missing when all he could sleep in was a worn sleeping bag. Despite the chilly temperatures accompanying darker hours it was warm in the tent, air stuffy from a lack of ventilation, stale by the time morning came about and fresh oxygen seemed to be used up. 

Regardless of the handful nights spent together like this, it was a challenge to get used to, and despite being the last to close his eyes, he was always the one to open them first. Whispers of the trees, calling out for him amidst drizzling rain, they accompanied his early and late hours, a white noise he wanted to drown out. No longer was he sure he would have considered them less or more a challenge had he been alone, he didn’t like the _what ifs_ of life when some things could no longer be changed, when the whole of his time spent breathing seemed to be surrounded by the mist of oddity, by vague somethings, words on the tip of his tongue he could not spell. 

It was the cracking of branches that woke him for good, so similar to the creaking of morning due frozen when Jeno stepped on it, on the rare days he had to head out earlier than Renjun, the sound of it, from the meeting of heel with ground to the ebbing sound of lifted toes, was too familiar. Haunting, a painful reminder that had him turn to his other side, facing the canvas through which he so lightly could perceive the trees of faint shadows sketched on white paper. There was a movement between them, shadow too stretched to be a fox, too small to be a bear, or whatever other animal they did not actually harbor on their restricted land. Shadow of a human that drove shivers of ice down his spine.

“ _Renjun… Renjun…”_

Voice so familiar it was frightening, horrifying, but desperate need grew churning in his guts, the itch of something, of needing to know.

“ _Renjun… Find me, Renjun, find m-”_

Voice broken off, the final straw, before he had realized already was he up, clambering about their tent to get his boots, not bothering to lace them when he rushed out the tent. Goosebumps broke on his skin, temperatures too cold to be out without protective layers and yet it slipped his mind when all he could focus on was _Jeno Jeno Jeno-_

There! Faint shadow, a distance away, he didn’t think about it much when he rushed forth, feet staggering across protruding roots, skittering across morning dew moist leaves, the distant crowing of a bird but there was that figure still ahead, clouded by the mist, a diffused shape. If Jeno was there, if he had finally found his friend- They would be able to go home, could be four again, and Renjun promised he would behave better, would be kinder to Jaemin again, would spend time with Mark again, if only he could get Jeno back into his life.

“ _Renjun…!_ ”

“ _Oh, silly boy… You silly, silly boy…”_

_Trickling laughter of his mother-_

A pained yell escaped him when the ground vanished beneath his feet, a short fall and yet it was evident, carpet yanked under his soles, a second that seemed all too long but ahead of him, so far away, out of his reach, he could see the figure disappear, and along with it, the whispers that clouded his mind.

Shock of cold, his thoughts were stopped abruptly as he fell into icy water, little prickles of needles on his skin that ached so much. Clothes soaked and pulling him under, chill numbing his limbs, it felt so much more strenuous to get out of the water like this, abandon the river he had fallen into to crawl onto the muddy bank. Soaked soil beneath his fingers, it felt disgusting, squelching and wet, and yet he was no better, with water dripping from his bangs and cloths, droplets he could not get rid of obscuring his sight. He wanted to see better, wanted to wipe it all away and get up, knew that there was still a risk of hypothermia but his body felt stuck to the ground, wooden blocks nailed together, the echo of voices, of people he missed so much still haunting his mind.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, how long he had stared at the water dripping from his nose and chin to become invisible as they hit the ground, swallowed up by already wet floors. His body shuddered with a sob but the sound felt so foreign, as if it hadn’t left his lips, had been something he had merely perceived. Sensations so out of tune with reality, he was not sure which was the cause, whether it was the shock of his accident or his longing for his best friend, was the lingering sadness that had accompanied him for so long. Mist clouding secrets and clouding his minds, hidden treasures and traps he was no longer sure he wanted to unpack nor discover, but they were already there.

Were evident in the shape of Mark and Jaemin who had not let go, who had decided to tag along with his absurd thoughts regardless of being supposed to know better, who were willing to stick around when he had pushed them away so often- He took another shuddery breath, collected his thoughts to focus his mind, assess his body from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers, make sure he could feel it all despite the seeping cold. One injury was enough, he didn’t want to twist his ankle out of stupidity rather than mistake, didn’t want to go tripping like the time when his legs had fallen asleep. It was effort, felt like taking too long, until he had pulled himself together and pushed his body up. At least, and that must be the only good part of it, he knew where he was, could see the little elevation he had fallen from, traveling some few yards underwater, and how fortunate he was the river had little to no stream.

Hiking back to camp was tiring, he hadn’t been aware how long he had been running, chasing after somethings and nothings, and distancing himself so much from his friends. It was stupid - _he_ was stupid - but there were too many ifs and maybes in life for him to want to question now or ever. Pulling his feet up and pushing his legs forth one by one was already too much. 

There was light, closer to camp, the red flaring of fire that sourced his aim, and he didn’t even think to question such detail until he heard Mark’s startled gasp. Mark, who was the only one between the two who was awake, who looked so taken aback by the sight of a shivering and wet Renjun there was a delay of a few seconds before he scrambled about. Retrieving clothes from the youngest’s backpack and one of the spare blankets they had taken along, a string of rope thrown over some low hanging branches and Renjun could just watch.

He didn’t question it, the way Mark pulled at his clothes, tugging up his warm undershirt, fumbling with his zipper or making him step out of his boots, didn’t question the flush sitting high on Mark’s cheeks until they looked cute, so innocent and expressive, Mark had always been like that. Untainted by his surroundings, a steady pillar and flourishing flower alike, someone who was always ready to listen and give some advice and maybe that had to do with working at a bar but there was something innocent too, as if every story told was one never heard before, as if the smallest speck of dust would taint him like black oil. It was something to be envious of, something he hadn’t ever noticed, hadn’t seen Mark grown up like this and all the changes he had missed he only realized when his bare body was revealed to the susurrant morning air. 

Embarrassment was slow to dawn upon him, and by the time Renjun had realized he had been undressed, bare and naked, in front of caring Mark, he was silent for way different reasons. Donned with a new undershirt and pair of pants, wrapped in a blanket and feet covered by thick socks, and he could only stand there and watch as Mark hung up his clothes on the rope, cleaner than the dirtied branches, water still dripping from their drenched appearance, and all done by Mark. Mark who was supposed to rest and not stress his foot like that, and realization of which made Renjun release a noise in worried urgency. 

It startled Mark in his task, head turning so fast it made his neck bones crack, eyes startled and wide, “Are you cold? Shit- Wait,” he scrambled, leaving Renjun’s socks a cluttered mess on the rope to step closer fast. Arms strong wrapped around the smaller’s waist, pulling Renjun backwards into Mark’s chest only to yelp in surprise when suddenly they fell to the ground. 

Close to the campfire and the warmth it entailed, bracketed by longer legs and stronger arms, he didn’t feel cold for the first time this day. Like a hot bath at the end of the day, it was like pouring milk through a cloth, collecting the cream, draining the stress, muscles soothed and limbs no longer locked up. Only silence remained like a weight between them, serene reminder of what Renjun had done - of what he had not done. To just disappear and return soaked head to toe, shoes spoiled, leather dark from the water, and yet he did not explain, and yet Mark knew better than to pry.

“You’re actually my first,” the older laughed, a bit nervous, weighted with something. When Renjun didn’t react immediately, he went on, “The first guy I’ve seen naked, I mean. Like, outside my family. We only have one bath so Taeyong is, like, you know, we all have seen our family so-”

The flames were hypnotizing, yellow and red licking into the air, flickering up and down, swaying with the wind kissing their lips. “What about girls then…?”

“They’re not-” Without looking, Renjun could tell Mark was flushed a bright red, embarrassment tinting his voice, and that awkward stutter returning to his words. It was cute. Mark was cute. Endearing and innocent Mark.

All the same he got it, understood what Mark wanted to tell him, that girls were not appealing, weren’t interesting enough to be looked at because he was the same. Had looked at Jaemin and had looked at Johnny, had thrown glimpses into Jaehyun’s direction before his death. Despite being wrapped into a blanket, he tried to wrap his fingers around Mark’s forearms, tried to encompass his understanding. “You’re also the first for me…” He muttered, licked his lips slowly, jested, “Outside family.” Jeno counted as family. Probably. Likely. Someone who had taken a bath with him at times before touching his dick had become interesting shouldn’t count. 

“Renjun?” Breath so hot, tickling the younger boy’s ear, making him flinch with how striking the contrast was. “Can I kiss you too? To make you my first?”

Renjun wanted to laugh, wanted to joke and tease that it was impossible, that it couldn’t be Mark had never kissed a boy. Only the sincerity poured into those same words halted him, reminding him this was true, that Mark wouldn’t lie, couldn’t lie to him. He didn’t answer, only shuffled around until he was resting his weight on the side of his hips, and not able to use his hands trapped by the embrace, he could only give his answer in tilting his head up until his lips were met by their way warmer match. 

  
  
  


It was awkward, sitting in the tent when it wasn’t for sleep, when there wasn’t anything to keep them busy, felt awkward. Was awkward. To Renjun, at least, who could do little more than listen to the mixture of sounds, on one side the rain crashing down on the canvas of the tent with an intensity he might as well fear it to get torn apart, on the other he could hear Jaemin and Mark chatter away. It was as soothing as it was making him restless, hearing them talk so comfortably, sometimes about stories that were foreign to him when they had taken place during his recluded time, sometimes about happenings he had been part of too, happenings he could easily talk about as well but didn’t dare to.

As much as it made him feel excluded, he found it soothing too, to just let their conversations wash over him, interrupted only by his little sneezes and it must have been the third of such series when he noticed some motion from the corner of his eyes. Before a word of protest could cross his lips, Mark had handed him one of his sweaters, decisive gaze in his eyes, it was obvious he wouldn’t accept no rejection. Being compliant wasn’t part of how Renjun usually behaved, he just thought to owe it to Mark in that regard, and when the slightly flowery scent of detergent filled his nose, the sweeter notes that Mrs Lee liked to use to counteract the stench of booze and smoke, he couldn’t even bring himself to be bothered by it. 

“Thank you,” he ended up mumbling into the collar pulled up to his mouth, strings of the hood clasped by his fingers so he the fabric was snug around his head, guarding his still somewhat moist hair. Two simple words but they felt like a knife cutting through dense air, if the wide eyed look Jaemin gave him were anything to go by.

“It speaks!” The youngest gasped dramatically, as if it were such a mysterious happening, and Renjun didn’t even comment on how it probably was. He wasn’t actually certain he had said anything at all since his short conversation with Mark earlier, before they had shared their kiss, except a few words to warn from the rain maybe. “And I thought we were with a living dead!”

Those words, after having seen Jeno’s shade, an illusion of nothing, felt like acid in the chaser’s guts, throat dry from the strain as he averted his gaze to look down at the warm socks Mark had put on his feet earlier. Mark, whose lips he could feel like a faint tingle on his lips still, a different kind of warmth than the sour heat churning his guts. “Don’t say that…” His voice, a faint whisper, must be more audible than he had thought, fingers curling around his loose pants, hidden by his blanket, as he tried to ground himself. “I’m still here so don’t… say that…”

Renjun didn’t lift his head to look and watch Jaemin’s reaction, he only stared at the space between his knees, didn’t watch when Jaemin answered quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“‘course you didn’t,” the smaller answered quietly, fingers clenching around nothing for a moment, hesitation soaking his attention like a sponge in water, dripping wet like his own figure earlier that day. A few seconds of silence he was barely able to bear with, then he was shuffling around, stretching his limbs as he crawled about the little space of their tent, until he could fall down on the mats next to Mark, using the oldest’s thighs as pillow to cushion his head. Bit of tension, it was evident he had caught the other off guard, flexed state of his thigh, and with a little vibration it ebbed away until the barkeeper’s thigh was more soft than hard, a perfect place to rest. 

There were lines of fire burning through his skull, flaring red, took him seconds to figure out it must be Jaemin looking down at him like this, at Mark and him. This time, Renjun actually looked up, looked into Jaemin’s eyes that were alight with something, an emotion he couldn’t entirely discern, flickers of hot and cold, cloudy and clear, feelings overlapping and creating a puzzle so hard to make out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, to ask, to figure it out, to explore all these little traits. So he simply closed his eyes, snuggled more into Mark’s lap until he was cozy, drowsy, lulled in by the patter of rain and their once again picked up on conversations. Not entirely asleep, not entirely awake, but definitely too weak to protest even when they shuffled about, when Mark tucked him into his sleeping bag - or maybe it was Jaemin? - and arms wrapped around him, making sure he was warm, preventing a cold. He didn’t have it in him to protest, break out of his pliant state when it promised to be the most soothing sleep he had had in days.

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

It was their first day of continuing their path, held up by the rain for altogether two, and Renjun had never realized just how tough it was to walk through muddy woods, boots stuck, sucked into the grounds, and for the first time he felt envious of Mark and Jaemin in that regard. One used to working on a boat regardless of the weather, keeping his footing steady at all times, and the other who walked around the bar all night long to waiter to everyone. Compared to them, Renjun’s measly walks to work and back home, the chores he does at home, are meaningless. He isn’t used to the heavy drag that comes with his every step, his thighs are burning by the time they stop for the night, and his duties didn’t stop there.

His sore legs and hint of a cold were bearable compared to Mark’s sprained ankle, though, regardless of how much the state of his tendons had improved, Jaemin had warned the oldest not to overdo it. When Mark had hurried to take care of him despite his aching foot, Renjun had already made up his mind, didn’t want to strain Mark any more than he already was. So now, nevermind his tired state, he had already obligated the barkeeper to just sit down to go collect some leaves to pile together to pillow their tent, in best case isolating the canvas from the soaked soil. Not to mention the task of finding firewood in this horrible weather would be a challenge, one he didn’t know entirely how to resolve just yet. 

“Injun, hey!” Jaemin chirped, hand coming down on Renjun’s shoulder who just about yelled the volume of a goose from being startled so much. A foreign hand was quick to clasp over his mouth, silencing him before he could arouse any more attention, which wasn’t even making sense, after all, aside from Mark there was no one to be interested in them in first place. So if Jaemin was trying to silence him… 

It made Renjun frown as he turned his head, looking at the younger with suspecting eyes, handsome face turning a hint more pink, be it the cold or scrutinizing gaze, it was hard to tell. And it was hard to talk, something even the other seemed to realize, eventually lowering his hand with an excusing smile. “What the fuck, Na Jaemin? Did you eat some bad mushrooms or something?”

“No, that’s not-” Now the flush was definitely borne from embarrassment, all the more when confident, self-assertive Na Jaemin lowered his head shyly, dry looking lips chewed on awkwardly. It didn’t fit, the never insecure fisherman now looking like this, so uncertain, as if he didn’t know how to go about this… It didn’t fit, because Jaemin was never shy about hitting on anyone either. “Look, I just-” A heavy sigh left the younger’s lips, weighing heavy like a box of fish, it seemed suspicious all the same. “Why Mark?”

Processing the implication, the hint of what this was about, took a bit for Renjun, caught off guard, he couldn’t comprehend it at first, not until he felt Jaemin’s thumb tugging at the corner of his mouth a bit. Skin usually so rough, now a bit softer with the cold humidity, a bit relaxed after not having to work quite as hard anymore, far away from scratchy nets and scaled fish. Little touch, it was enough to give it all away. 

The little habit Mark and he had developed, kisses shared late at night, their lips meeting for gentle contact that had always ended with Renjun ending up sleeping pressed tight the other. He hadn’t ever noticed before, how easy it was to fall for Mark’s charms, when suddenly it made sense - the way he felt like a moth drawn to light, didn’t enjoy drinking but would always come along when Jeno proposed, how even during his worst days he’d have gone to pick up his best friend at the pub as per Mrs Lee’s request, in hopes of catching sight of Mark instead. Sweet kisses, stale flavor of food and smoke no amount of fresh mints could relieve, and yet he didn’t mind when remembering who it was he had kissed. 

They had thought they were sneaky, silent, secretive, in the two nights they had gone on like this, hadn’t thought to be caught when Jaemin was always first to be asleep. Side-effect of jumping on boats, going to bed early to be awake in time, schedule reversed, and it was so different to them, to Mark working late into the night and Renjun swaying somewhere in the middle. It was easy for them, to share affection like that, to be close, to touch.

“Why Mark?” Jaemin repeated, snapping Renjun out of his thoughts, the question so intense when it was simple all the same. Mark because he had asked, because he had stepped up, because he had caught Renjun at a moment of weakness and instability, and maybe some might think he had been taken advantage of, that he couldn't have said no - he could have. And he could have again at night, and then the one after, because he wouldn't just fall for a pretty face, no matter how pretty their visitors had called the inhabitants of their lands. Renjun didn't care about that, but he very much cared about Mark feeling safe, warm and guarding, a safe place with sweet lips he was addicted to.

And maybe, more than Mark's lips and taste and senses, he had come to a conclusion of his own - he didn't want to lag behind anymore. He was missing out on so many things, could have kissed Mark sooner, could have slept together sooner, had he not denied himself. Mark wasn't bad - had never been bad - and maybe his mother would be proud of him for making friends again.

Friends or something else, something different, something that should include Jaemin whose demeanor had changed, from nervosity to something darker, resembling hurt, as if Renjun's silence had encompassed words like a sword stabbing his immature heart. Hurt that was so quick to change again, when Jaemin's hand moved down, lower, from jaw to neck, thumb brushing along the smaller one's pulse, and before Renjun could comprehend he found his back hit wet bark when his body collided with a tree.

The kiss he received was nothing like Mark's, wasn't soothing and calm, wasn't shy and clumsy and lacking knowledge. It was assertive as it was sad, unspoken words poured into action, but the words that were missing Renjun could not recreate, it was suffocating because he couldn't tell, couldn't know, wasn't certain what it was Jaemin asked of him. But what he knew, what he could feel, was his heart breaking piece by piece.

His fingers trembled as he curled them around broad shoulders, grasping at fabric, trying to ground his mind, nevertheless, he pushed the younger away. Sadness was such horrible feeling, like raindrops undeterred in their way down, pulled in by gravity, sadness too would always return, would burden his heart, drag it along with thw anchor hitting ground. "I'm not," he started, taking a breath to buy himself time, to ignore the breaking of his heart, "one of your tourist girls, Jaemin. So don't play with me."

He didn't await no reply, didn't check for Jaemin's eyes, he simply left. One step and another, left and right, he made his way back to camp where Mark was waiting still, same Mark who eyed him curiously, silently offered a hug with his arms spread wide, and Renjun felt embarrassingly easy when he fell into it.

"Want to talk about it?" The older asked, voice soft and soothing, lacking any hint of accusation albeit he must know, that in these abandoned woods filled with whispering trees and tricking shadows only one other person was around to throw Renjun off. And it was awkward, he didn't want to talk, but all the same he couldn't remember the last time he talked, had swallowed it down since his mother left, only person who had known about his thoughts, and suddenly the idea seemed relieving, to just let it all out. So let it out he did, little mumbles of his thoughts, a confession of a crush to the wrong person, and Renjun should feel bad, to admit his feelings for another to the man he might be falling for. 

Shouldn't be talking about how he had loved Jaemin being so focused on him, ever so attentive during class, or that he had reported about Renjun's dad, little wounds the old man would have kept mum about otherwise. Shouldn't talk about the first wave of jealousy he had felt, when Jaemin had ditched him for a foreign girl, or that it had happened again, until he way forced to learn ro forget, unto his feelings were a treasure buried beneath sand. Far, far away, and out of his reach.

Fate was cruel like that, was relentless, yet his body didn't feel heavy with guilt, felt lightened with relief, and no hint of shame on his mind when Mark reassuringly patted down his hair. It was as if the older could understand, could agree on his suffering and pain, and Renjun didn't dare question it, didn't dare ask about Jaemin who hadn't joined them yet. For now, for just another moment, he wanted to enjoy, the simple fact that he was no longer alone, that someone looked out for him like that. He didn't move, not for another few moments of just enjoying Mark's warmth, thinking it sufficient, to be enough. For now, just another moment.

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

Breaking a mirror brings upon seven years of bad luck, his father had joked when eleven year old Renjun had broken his dresser mirror when trying to rearrange his room. His father wasn’t a mean guy, always tried his best to be caring and in good humor, even when times had become harder and sustainability grew to be more challenging. Back then, he surely had only tried to lighten the mood and cheer his son up but to Renjun - young and naive and oh so superstitious boy - those words had left a huge impact. Seven years of blaming every bit of bad luck on the broken mirror, what an irony it had been the biggest tragedies to experience had taken place only afterwards.

He had asked his mother over breakfast once, exactly why misfortune was supposed to follow after them when she broke a glass not a mirror. She had laughed, bright like the smell of spring flowers, and answered, “Because the fae use mirrors to glimpse into our worlds, my dear. And if you break a mirror, you’re also ruining their peeping windows. So they are upset with you, and in the rage to be robbed of their beloved plaything, they curse you with bad luck. But don’t you worry your pretty head, my dear, there are so many mirrors in the world, why would they pay attention to yours of all?”

Why it was only mirrors that were so dangerous had never been a question he had asked, now he couldn’t help wonder as he looked at his reflection in the small pond, water collecting between stones short of a little cliff where it built a cozy little waterfall, one Renjun had made use of to shower earlier in the morning, after freeing himself from Mark’s tight clutches. Breaking the water surface was a task accomplished way easier, to watch the way it rippled, little waves spreading in circular motions, silvery surface distorted. Its colors were quite different to the sea, hues changing with the season, from murky greenish grey in winter to a bright blue in summer, stormy anthracite and deep cobalt in between, was trickling silver glinting with the morning sun, lithic underground sparkling in its polished ways. 

Like this, he could easily understand why his mother had always said the fairies reside within the woods, when nature was as beautiful as this it seemed otherworldly, like it didn’t belong. Much too clean cut ethereal for their odd island, it seemed wrong for there to be such pretty scenery when disappearances made life so dull. Almost it seemed like the water was singing to him, as if the droplets hitting river and stone wanted to tell him something, as if the distorted reflection of his own self was a message of something else. Almost it looked like his mirrored mouth was moving, spilling secrets, mischief within dark eyes, and there were hands reaching forth, pulling up from beneath the surface.

When they touched him, curled around his shoulders and yanked him back, an embarrassingly loud scream left Renjun’s mouth. Certainly he would have jumped in place if not for the hands keeping him in place, and his field of vision was replaced by dirty blond and big eyes filled with concern. He was no longer certain he preferred his own enthralling reflection of Jaemin’s worried face, not when he hadn’t talked a proper word with the younger since the incident the previous day, lips tingling, strawberry taste lingering, driving him insane whenever he glimpsed at the fisherman only to look right away. 

“We need to talk,” the blond stated, didn’t even ask, because it didn’t actually matter. Spending as much time together as they did, being limited in space when they had but one tent, there was no other option than talk out whatever bothered them. At least that’s what Jaemin apparently liked to do, because Renjun could have very well lived without embarrassing himself by spilling any more secrets than he already had. “Actually, I need to apologize. What I did yesterday wasn’t… right… And I shouldn’t have blindsided you like this.”

“I guess it wasn’t,” Renjun agreed slowly, blinked against the sun so he could get a better view of his companion. The weather had turned for the better after the rain, more sun, less fog, albeit it was never accompanied by a clear sky, the kind they didn’t have often times unless it was the peak of summer, weather warm and waters clear as the heaven’s tent.

“I don’t- You’re not one of the _tourist girls_! And I don’t want to play with you! But I don’t regret kissing you, okay?” Words that were spoken so earnestly, leaving Jaemin’s mouth like woven gold, they did nothing more than irritate Renjun who could only frown, the lack of sense behind the statements confusing him, more than the entirety of Jaemin ever could have. Same which was letting go of him, as if the risk of him running away was now lessened, so the younger could sit down next to him, facing him, eyes as earnest as the Kim’s dog’s. “Just... Seeing you with Mark every night… I didn’t think you’d end up with someone else right in front of me, Injun. I was hoping you’d finally notice I’m not- I don’t know, your enemy, or whatever you see me as!”

Slowly, the older tilted his head to the side, trying to make sense of these words that so awfully sounded like a confession made of jealousy when the same was so unlikely. Not Jaemin, not the boy who had started hooking up with girls every night in between drinking at the pub and venturing out on the sea come morning, statements contradicting actions, and yet it had been he to be kissed the prior day. 

Wind whistling, caressing the water, causing ripples like his own distracted him momentarily, the distant flicker of red that looked too much like the one of Jeno’s scarf, same one he had left with his belongings at their nearby camp. He hated it, what these woods did to his mind, these ever recurring images of Jeno and his voice, they were slowly driving him insane.

Now he considered to add Jaemin to that list of irritating things, now that Renjun looked back at the younger, those earnest eyes, emotions he could not comprehend. They were reversals, the more time he spent with Jaemin the more riddlesome he became, opposite of Mark who seemed to open like a flower, more than an awkward kid, less than Jaemin’s jumping thoughts. He had thought he had figured them out, had used it as excuse to not have to spend time and yet, now that he had to, that they were so close, he realized his own mistake. 

The longer Renjun watched, still confused, mind refusing to connect the dots, the more a mixture of embarrassment and realization seemed to paint Jaemin’s face, until he ducked his head shyly. Voice barely audible above the chirping of birds, he confessed, “I like you, Injun. Did since a while now… I thought you knew as much.” Fingers nervously kneading the hem of his sweater, rough fingers seeming so delicate now, distracted the older one’s mind for a moment, lines forcefully drawn to perfect a picture he had refused to see.

“Those girls-” Mentally, he slapped himself. Now wasn’t the time to ask about that, Renjun had to remind himself, at the same time, it was already too late. Jaemin liked him. Jaemin had actually been jealous of Mark. Mark who was back at camp, maybe sleeping, maybe awaiting them, either way he was alone, and somehow that thought had his heart feeling like a cloth squeezed dry. Wringed and twisted, emotions pouring out, filling his body with little sensations of oddities, fingertips tingling and goosebumps along his spine. 

Ever so faintly, the red on the fisherman’s pretty face increased, darker hue contrasting so beautiful with his honeyed skin, like sour cherries on caramelized cake, pretty and sweet and so perfectly addicting. “I wanted to make you jealous, at first… But then somehow, it felt good, you know? And I thought I could impress you, when it’s time so I just- went on…”

Slowly, bit by bit, the older blinked his eyes, all these confessions like weights dropped into piles of cotton, cushioned in their fall but sinking down eventually, slowly and gently and with quite some delay. To really let them sink took time, and he needed more time still, they were too much, all at once, when he didn’t know what to do. Whiplash of emotions, the crush he had given up on years ago, to have it suddenly reciprocated when he had thought he could have gotten over it, when there was now Mark, too, elbowing his way to get a little space of his own in Renjun’s life, was a bit too much. Jeno’s disappearance and all these developments… “I need to think about this,” he finally said, quietly, to not be too harsh on the man who had just bared his heart, an act of braveness of its own. He didn’t want to make decisions without thought, worsen matters he had no control about. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Certainly.” Jaemin stuttered, one by one, and Renjun wryly smiled as he got up, waving his water bottle about as if that would answer it all. In a way it must, when he was on breakfast routine and they had some packs of noodles left, lasting them maybe another day or two, as if their lighter backpacks wanted to tell them to return home too. 

He had already made his way halfway back to the line of trees when he heard Jaemin call his name again, prompting him to turn around. “If you don’t feel the same, could we at least remain friends?”

From _something different from friends_ to _at least remain friends_ , there had been a jump in wishes, a difference in wants, and Renjun ached with empathy. Such masochistic trait, to want to stay friends with the one to break your heart, it was a sentiment he didn’t get, not when he had tried for so long to get rid of Jaemin for the same reason too, wanted to distance himself lest his heart aches more. But Jaemin was not him, something he had to forcefully remind himself off, as he swallowed the knot in his throat. “Friends,” he agreed eventually, with an attempt to smile. This time again, he didn’t await Jaemin’s reaction as he turned around to continue his way. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

Late at night, above the whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the outside sounding so loud, in Renjun whispered, “Jaemin confessed today.” 

Likely it was the worst conceivable moment to bring up such topic, with Mark’s lips warm against his throat, leaving a trail of heat against his skin, a gesture he had grown familiar with in the recent days, when Mark’s taste has proven to be addicting, a shared feeling of being hooked on the experience, the proximity that came so easily now. Sometimes it startled him, the realization of how close they were, something he noticed belatedly, a striking contrast when the only other person he was as cozy with was Jeno, and not even his best friend was quite as touchy as Mark proved to be. 

It weren’t grand gestures, wasn’t the way he had seen Donghyuck behave around Jaemin, like overeager puppies playing in the fields, it wasn’t about suppressing each other with affection. Mark’s touches were subtle, ghost of lasting longer than the actual contact, was the fingers curling around Renjun’s nape before sitting down next to the younger, was the little squeeze to his knee before leaving for private business, was the arm wrapped around his waist or shoulders for sleep, dependant on how much Renjun could still handle. 

It wasn’t what he was used to, wasn’t Jeno’s all or nothing, five minutes of affection every day, of picking the smaller up and spinning around, or planting his head on Renjun’s lap while the older read a story during cold winter nights, when their family members were gone and they only had each other to keep company. But there was something about easing one another into it they both were good at, unto Renjun was used to it without realizing, missing their touch before he had noticed they had made a habit of it. 

_“Stupid child!”_

_“As if he’d care.”_

_“Aren’t you too selfish, wanting two boys for your own?”_

The whispers of the wind drove a shiver down his spine, whispers he couldn’t comprehend were only his to be heard or were perceived by Mark too, whether they sounded different to the older male. Maybe it was just him going crazy in these woods, hearing voices and seeing things, grounded only by Mark’s breath warm against his throat, traveling up, hitting his jaw, until eventually a pair of lips were warm and soft against his own. 

_“Greedier than our Lady and her pretty toys!”_

_“But she always throws them away - broken and useless! Skulls split in two!”_

“What did you say?” The tavern heir asked softly, voice a tender caress against Renjun’s face. He didn’t seem surprised, and maybe he wasn’t, had always been close with Jaemin and the other guys, was cozy with all the people on their little land and if only because alcohol got the tongues loose and walls crumbling. 

_“Will you break their heads too, little boy?”_

_“Or will it be you whose heart is split in two?”_

“That I have to think about it,” the younger whispered, quietly, because more than this being a secret, he simply didn’t want to wake Jaemin up, the thoughts he confessed to Mark were meant to stay between the two of them, regardless of whether or not the youngest was part of the topics they discussed. No malicious intent, nothing but an exchange of feelings, an intercourse of thoughts. “Didn’t want to make a decision without you…”

_“...”_

_“...”_

The whispers he was certain were still evident, he tried his best to ignore them, to drown out their very existence, wanted to focus on Mark alone, big eyes so earnest and bright and filled with raw emotion. “Why?”

Why indeed, Renjun thought to himself, as if the answer wasn’t already so obvious, explained by his furiously beating hard, the thumping of which should be palpable with how close they were at the moment. The fast pace caused by the other, kisses lingering, heart hammering, mind filled with thoughts of Mark even when he wasn’t around. Regardless of his experiences with relationships or lack thereof, he was not dense enough not to realize, the simply truth of his cause, “I might have started falling for you…”

Surprised little noise was his only reply for a few moments, during which the older scrambled back a bit, cheeks flushed a beautiful red that was barely visible with the lack of light, seen by Renjun only for he knew the difference between with and without, and both were so pretty to him. “Not that I’m, like, not flattered or anything, really, but what’ll you do about Jaemin then? Don’t you still like him?”

“I don’t know…” And he really didn’t, he felt confused, had been content with giving up on Jaemin, had meant to pass his heart’s baton to Mark instead, have him take the lead, not be sent tripping and stumbling and falling because of Na Jaemin again. Of all people, too. “I didn’t think there was a possibility…”

Mark’s hand felt soothing against his cheek, thumb rubbing over the high bone of, drawing lunar circles around his temple prior lowering to his nape, smoothing along his jaw and under his ear. “What is it you want to do?”

The caresses were hypnotic, working like a spell that drowned everything but Mark out, lured forth only the truth, until Renjun found himself spilling, “I want to give him a chance. But I also want to give you a chance. But then I’ll feel selfish and-”

Before he could finish, his lips were claimed again, taken by their match and an eager kiss. The same way he was no longer able to respond, he never got to hear Mark’s reply as well. All he had from that night were lingering kisses and lasting marks on his neck that drowned out his thoughts so they fade to black. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

By noon, when the sun had reached her peak above them, he could hear the rushing of the ocean again, waves crashing against cliffs, the familiar sound of home, of that little spot outside the village that had one been a place of peace and quiet. Now it was a place of bad memories for almost all of them, recalling how it was the same place Yuji had come from, tears streaming from her eyes, crying about her brother’s fall. Sometimes he still passed by the place, it was hard to when the area was vast, but the steady noise was reassuring, white noise to drown out his thoughts, and he had missed it more than he had thought.

Surprisingly, after all these days spent in the woods, he had begun to miss the sound of the ocean already, the one that had always accompanied them, always surrounded them. He had almost forgotten about the inevitability of the sea surrounding them, drowned out by whispers and shadows, by kisses and touches, but here they were again, and the moment he heard the waves again he dropped his backpack on the ground without any care. Steps fastened, he merely followed the scent of salt permeating the air, felt the ground beneath his feet change, from soil and wet moss to stone. Trees replaced by bushes, scarce grass, and the sea was right beneath him.

Relief flooded him like water did with a leaking boat, weighing so cozily heavy in his lungs, like freezingly cold mornings spent huddled beneath blankets, the weight of soothing warmth and protective layers. It was not suffocating, not burdening, was familiar and filled with a sense of home. The rushing of the waves that mixed with the tingling of the forests, tiny pixie feathers fluttering in the air, mixing with the melodic voice of Jaehyun’s singing, tunes that had always delighted their evenings spent barbecuing fish on sticks over an improvised campfire by the beach. Jaehyun’s singing that shouldn’t be audible, not when he was long since gone, had not disappeared but taken such final step voluntarily. Enough to make him gag as he thought it over, tones that had once been soothing now making him sick, and he couldn’t even blame his body for giving out.

Knees buckling, slamming down on the ground, hands colliding with rough stone so his face was not, and he found himself staring at the sea in a way more direct than should be comfortable. Head sticking out over stones, he could sea the foaming white underneath, could feel the acid bubbling up his throat, like a punishment of the fae, as if the ocean was poison in his lungs, making him sick, driving him insane. Suffocating, that’s what it was, the way his muscles tensed, fingers tight around the stone until his knuckles looked like the angry bubbling so far beneath, drowning out his thoughts and his noise, a welcome distraction from his own racing mind.

His stomach was empty by the time he was done, and he regretted not having brought his backpack so he could spit out the taste of bile, mourned the fact that Jaemin nor Mark had followed beyond him or checked on his state. It made sense, a minute later, when he saw the sun had barely moved, minutes that felt like hours for him mere fleeting time, reminding him he had other places to be. Regardless of his knees buckling and hands trembling, he heaved himself up, away from the edge of the cliff to get back into the woods. Never before would he have thought the forest and its fogs, its curious swirls and angry murmurs, lush green replacing deep blue, would become a place of comfort for him. Or perhaps it was not the place but the people, was not the clean scent of moist soil but the warmth of Mark’s arms as he stumbled into the older. It soothed him, calmed down the raging acid tormenting his guts, aided the retching he felt until he no longer felt his own pipes were working against him, albeit that did little to counter the aftertaste. 

“Are you okay?” The taller asked, arms tight around Renjun’s waist as Mark stumbled back, until they could lean against a tree and slide down its body, settling on the roots sticking out that weren’t as wet as the ground. Fingers cold against his forehead, the younger could only release one embarrassingly pitiful sigh. “You’re burning up, Renjun. Is it your cold?”

Much as he wanted to say it was, he knew better, knew it was not the cold from falling into the stream or it would have caught him much sooner, should have tracked him after his shower in such natural environment. This wasn’t a cold, felt like eating expired cheese and rotten fruit, was simply bad and yet, the only reason for him to feel that way, was the oceanic air replacing forest green within his system and lungs. It was dizzying, to feel relief after returning to the woods, the warmth that seeped into his body too quick and too hard, warmed him up, like a hot glass put into cold water, he felt like cracking and bursting apart.

“Jaemin!” Mark yelled after minutes of Renjun being unable to reply, raspy breathing and trembling fingers. Soothing touches helped, at least the younger one’s trembling seized unto it were only his fingers twitching in need for reassurance, jittering despite being clawed into the taller’s thick sweater. Once more, Mark called for their missing member, by the time Renjun was retching again, nothing more in his stomach to throw up but throat choking up all the same. 

There was another pair of hands, rubbing little circles into his back, protected front and back until the air Renjun breathed tasted no longer like sandpaper grating along the inside of his throat. Instead, exactly the opposite, the air he inhaled, breathed in deeply, was no longer filled with wooden green, with pines and leaves, was the hint of tobacco smoke no longer getting washed out of Mark’s clothes, was the sharp mint of the drops Jaemin liked to bite rather than melt on his tongue. And like so many things, it had happened before he had taken note of it, the mixture of their scents turned into something soothing, reassuring, was no longer driving him insane as much as it was anchoring him to reality. 

Faintly he could hear the whispers of their voices, slipping into his ears the same way hot chocolate went down the throat, thick and hot, gooey in his guts. He couldn’t make out the words, they were like a lullaby, pulling him down and under, slowly, carefully, not like the rushing waves just yards away, audible still, the sound more lulling than the oceanic taste had been.

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

The sun was setting by the time Renjun came to again, a dull throbbing in his head albeit the dizziness had faded along with the sickness, was only cozy warmth and the slightly burning scent of smoke that filled his nose. It was accompanied by something spicy, onion and pepper and garlic, a perfect mixture for meat that smelled undoubtedly like Mrs Lee’s mixture for the whole chicken served at the tavern, sweetened by a hint of apple, a dish that was as simple as it was perfect, and while it seemed easy to copy, he hadn’t yet had anyone else do it quite like Mrs Lee.

With a little grunt he heaved himself up, realizing he’s settled in the tent he couldn’t remember to have put up himself. Then again, he couldn’t remember much of what had happened between arriving at the ocean cliffs and waking up again, fading flickers of memories he couldn’t tell apart, fuzzy and distorted. It was like knowing something happened, that Mark and Jaemin had taken care of him, a silent assurance, he just didn’t know how or why or the many ways they could have done so. Except for the obvious, of tugging him into their current version of a bed so he could recover calmly. All while they had set up camp and even prepared food he could not possibly fathom to have under these circumstances. 

His body felt heavier than was healthy, ironically so, when considering that he had nothing more in his stomach now upset with hunger rather than sickness. Vision flickering a bit, he had to halt minutely to gather his bearings before he made his way outside, not even bothering with putting on shoes despite the way the dirt would soak his socks and make his feet all clammy and cold. Not that this could bother him as much when he spotted Jaemin and Mark whispering from where they were seated around the campfire above which they had hung some bird or maybe a rabbit. He wasn’t exactly that good at distinguishing dead animals well. 

“Injun!” Jaemin exclaimed a bit surprised after spotting him first, eyes and expression brightening for all of a second before it colored with worry and relief alike. “Are you feeling better now?” He asked in a soothing tone, simultaneously as he went to retrieve the abandoned shoes from inside the tent, along with some water that Renjun appreciated to be handed.

He could still taste acid on his tongue, washing it down was a welcome activity now that he was able to, and although he felt awful to be pampered in the way Jaemin was putting his shoes on for him or Mark pulled him into his side to lean against, he didn’t exactly have the strength to protest now. No word left his lips as he let them act and move about, making sure he was relaxed in his spot, soothing little touches that felt familiar only when he received them from Mark. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Jaemin was caring, sister a doctor and heart too kind, it was making Renjun’s beat heavier in tandem, reminded him he still owed the younger an answer to words of love and affection, words he himself had not yet found of his own. 

Seeking for help, or maybe just a second opinion, he looked at Mark, didn’t know what to do or say and most especially when his thoughts were still so slow to come to him. They were suffocatingly lacking in realistic speed, mind like a giant ball of cotton that cushioned all his dropping ideas, a fuzzy filter clouding his self. Just maybe he was more sick than he had originally assumed, what with the combination of his little cold and stomach reaction. 

“Jaemin…” He tried softly, except for his usual tone Renjun’s voice was little more than a hoarse scratch of tone, pipes sore from the earlier acidic taste. And just like his vox, all bravado was gone the second he felt the younger’s eyes on him, embarrassed and shy and no longer knowing what to say.

“Injunnie,” the blond repeated in homage to the sick one’s own exclaim, way softer, faulted on whatever had contributed to their sickness, state of sickness, late hour, feelings of affection. It didn’t matter when, with the following words, all words were taken right out of Renjun’s mouth, swiping his mind clean like a window during spring cleaning, sparkling and glinting in the sun the way Mrs Lee had always achieved, giving him a perfect view into his neighbors’ house, and it was all thanks to Jaemin saying, “Mark and I already talked.”

What? “What…?” Renjun echoed weakly, eyes big as he stared at the older supporting him. He swallowed dryly, and regretted it right the next moment when he had to cough, fingers clumsy as he unscrewed his bottle again to take a rushed gulp. 

“We, uhm, like- What you told me before, we, yeah, we discussed that? I guess?” Mark stuttered, nervous, but for what reason was not as obvious as Renjun would have prefered. Too much must have happened while he had been passed out, and based on the embarrassed expression the barkeeper wore, at least one of them didn’t want to explain exactly what it had entailed. Neither did the younger dare to ask what had happened, afraid of knowing and not knowing alike.

“It wouldn’t be fair to make a move without informing your current interest, too, Junnie,” Jaemin purred, moving around to take the meat off the fire, ripping off pieces regardless of how hot it must be, rosy flesh easily solving from the white bone. The first piece, steaming in the air, was held out to the smaller whose stomach was rumbling in upset, meat easily devoured within a single bite despite the heat burning Renjun’s very tongue. “Does it taste well? I thought you might need something nourishing, I’m just afraid the spices might be a bit too much. So drink a lot. And eat slow. At least you don’t have a fever,” the youngest rambled, back of his hand pressed to Renjun’s forehead for a moment before feeding him another piece of meat.

And, just like that, the topic of conversation entirely slipped the artist’s mind, no longer knowing where it had started or where to pick up, tongue numb from the overwhelming flavor. Having a full stomach had always made him drowsy, feeling exhausted still only added onto that, eyelids heavy by the time all meat was gone, devoured by the three of them down to the bones that Mark had sucked clean. 

By instinct, he cuddled more into Mark’s side, could barely so manage to keep his eyes open as he tried to keep track of what Jaemin was doing who had to do most of the work now that Renjun was out of commission and their oldest by attachment too. Letting his conscious fade out for the second time that day was easy, easier than it should be, held off by stubbornness only. Nevertheless, he didn’t have the strength to move, took barely so notice of being moved somewhere else, the tent as he figured by how he was placed down, pants pulled off his legs and sleeping bag tightened around his body. That and the warmth that engulfed him from everywhere were about the last things he noticed before drifting off entirely, something he soaked up like a sponge inside water, butterfly larvae in its cocoon meant for transformation, metamorphosis, but he did not yet know what would become of him come the next day. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸

Sky grey and dreary, the clouds above them were looming dangerously, promising another cloudburst to happen any time in the next minutes to hours, early spring weather always awfully unpredictable, and Renjun already mourned the loss of sunshine despite the original lack of light. Bright rays peeking out in between the dark accumulations so far up, closer than usual, weighed down by the water contained. Already did he know he wouldn’t like it, had always preferred rain to be watched from the inside, with a nice cup of tea and huddled into blankets, making the mere idea of being stuck in the rain a second time now throughout their travels a dreary one. 

On a day like this, it would be smarter to put up their camp sooner than later, the formula of their travel inverse, the more exhausting their ways became the lighter their luggage too, meaning there was less weight to carry around, facilitating their walks. That didn’t eradicate the entire strain, after so many days walking uneven terrain, regardless of their breaks in between, it would take its toll eventually. Movements that were outside their usual practice, maybe Jaemin could deal with it best but not for that long, worked muscles that, Renjun mostly, had never even known to possess. 

“Injunnie,” their said fittest member called out carefully, prompting the slightly older to halt in his steps, turning his head around to look at Jaemin who pointed somewhere distant, “Let’s seek shelter.” Indeed, where Jaemin was pointing was what looked like another little cliff, boulders and stones making up a wall and whilst it wasn’t as close as would be comfortable, the overbearing relief promised ground that wasn’t soil embracing rain water, at best they might find a cave that would be undoubtedly drier than the outside or their tent. 

Eyes darting over, Renjun checked with Mark silently who nodded in agreement, and so long as there was no disagreement, he also wouldn’t have a problem with it. On the contrary, even though the stony ground might be a bit hard to sleep on, the moist wouldn’t seep cold through the layers of bedding they had to make use of. “Let’s go there then,” he sighed, tired not of Jaemin but the situation, eyes darting up towards the sky in worry, hoping at least the clouds wouldn’t burst before they had set everything up.

Reaching the cliffs as fast as possible meant changing their paths from the higher hills down into the little valley and up again, descent not steep, no higher than the roots they stepped on being on the same level as the tips of the tree crowns at their lowest. Not much of a challenge in itself, it were the shadows that made him worried, that kept distracting him and made his steps faulty, shadows he knew not to trust but whenever he thought to see a figure moving between the trees he jostled, and the jumpier he got the more he worried the other two. There was only so much he could blame on lingering exhaustion, both were paying more attention to him after his continuous incidents, had him feeling thankful, bashful and upset at once when neither of them had acted quite as worried with Mark’s strained ankle.

Now it was there again, the shadow slinking this way and that, hiding behind the trees but always keeping a distance, as if it didn’t want to be caught and yet, the trees it chose to hide behind were so far apart, always skipping two or three, as if it preferred only certain ones. Following it was addictive, guess what trees it would choose, where it would go next, but the little noise in the back of his mind told him this wasn’t normal, he shouldn’t see shadows, not in forests supposed to be abandoned, shouldn’t see things that aren’t supposed to be there, that the same shadows had sent him crashing into cold water, had him frozen inside and out. He had to shake his head, literally tried to shake it off, was going insane at this rate, with whispering voices trailing twilight and shadows that moved no way light could allow. 

Sighing heavily, he forced his eyes to direct front again, keeping track of the oversized rock formation ahead of them that lead their way, glancing down only so often to not trip and fall a second time that day. Once had been embarrassing enough. So focused on the front, he barely noticed how much the light had dimmed, as if night had approached too fast, mist surrounding them, obscuring their surroundings. More so than just the woods, he felt as if his whole thinking was clouded too, slow on the uptake and if only the reminder of such was the second he heard the call of his name, realized he was yards ahead of the other two who had stopped. 

Had stopped for something, he realized, as he imitated Mark’s line of sight, the distant light that could be seen that must be real if it was not only him to see it, shining brightly, waving a bit, like a lantern swaying in the wind. He couldn’t make out what Mark was saying exactly, words like white noise, a fuzzy buzzing in his ears, regardless, the meaning behind these words was easy to guess. Whether he managed to voice his agreement or not he didn’t know, he very much tried to, though, and this time around, it was him to follow them towards the light.

Almost he anticipated the light to, just like the shadow, stay away from him at always the same distance. It didn’t, it’s reflection in the mist progressively growing bigger and bit by bit he could make out a bigger shadow behind it, dark, solid, not flickering like sunlight reaching out through the bodies of trees. Exactly why became obvious a bit later, by the time they were about two dozen yards away, the dark figure attached to the light resembled a building, a blockhouse cottage to be exact, and like an omen, be it good or bad, was sent their way. The clouds burst, rain heavy and thick, too weighted to be held off by the scarce leaves and thick branches, splattered onto them regardless of their intent.

With a squeak, not unlike a cat being doused with water, Jaemin jumpstarted into a sprint, reaching the building ahead of Mark and Renjun, seeking refuge underneath the patio where, befitting of Renjun’s first thoughts, a lantern was hung, swaying with a breeze that did not exist. Rain falling straight was not deterred by wind, it was impossible for the light to slink right and left, little chain rattling from the movement, and the two eyed it with the same suspicion as him. Mark was wary, Jaemin was not, knocked at the door without hesitation. Three knocks first, waiting a minute, another two, another minute, and there was no reaction.

“Jaemin, maybe we should-” Mark started but already had the youngest pushed open the door, revealing the dark insides, no candles nor warmth, air dusty and moldy, as if no one had entered the same house in years. Yet the lantern was lit, and the realization hit Renjun in the form of cold shivers running down his spine.

“Don’t piss your pants, Mark!” Jaemin chirped brightly, way more enticed by the prospect of a bed and house than the remaining two of them. No shame no sense, the blond stepped inside, using the vague light of the lantern to find a candle to light, and with that another and a third, until there was a dim glow illuminating the cottage, barely so enough to make out the scarce pieces of furniture and another door at the far back of what seemed to be the living room and open kitchen. 

Mark and Renjun were still outside, nervous about intruding when they didn’t know whose house it was, and it was bothering the younger, that there was such place at the far end of their island, when no one lived here, when no one had ventured into the forest for as long as he could remember. They had, possibly Jeno too, if the scarf was anything to go by, or maybe it had just been an intricate ploy to derail them, for whatever reason there could possibly be. It didn’t make sense, nothing within these woods made sense, and Renjun had long since exhausted his thoughts to try to still ponder the reason behind it all. 

Without him having realized, Jaemin had started a fire within the open furnace, more light reaching into the crooks and corners of the room, warmth that battled with the outside cold, and it was thanks to the glare the youngest gave them that Renjun finally dared take the first step inside. Mark shot him an incredulous look, Renjun shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what else to do, did not want to set up camp in the rain nor sleep outside, even if it meant staying up all night inside, it was dry and warm, better than outside.

“If something happens, it’s totally your fault,” Mark mumbled whilst taking up on the hint, following inside as the last and closing the door behind himself. The air draft stopped, fire in the furnace licking into the air with more vigor, shining brighter now, making the particles of dust flying through the air more obvious, causing Renjun to sneeze and glare at Jaemin who had pulled the linen off the couch with more ambition than seemed reasonable. 

The fisherman’s laughter trinkled brightly through the air, grin wide and shining teeth, eyes crinkling underneath blonde tresses. “Just sit down. I’ll make something for dinner real quick.” With the same ease accompanying his words, the youngest sauntered to the kitchen compartment, grabbing the pot with a chain, dumping in the last of their ramen and some water into it before hanging it above the fire with a poker. Silence engulfed them without Jaemin bringing up the mood, more bright spirited than most people on their island, and Renjun wasn’t always sure he envied it or not. “Let’s check out the bedroom too! I can’t wait to sleep in a proper bed and-”

A heavy knocking sound startled them all, had the artist jump in his seat, hands reaching to cling onto Mark’s arm, hiding behind the older. There was no follow-up sound, seconds trickling by like Mrs Kim’s gooey porridge dripping into bowls, slow and viscid, filled with their lack of breath, crackling of fire, prattling of rain and bubbling of water. No knocking, though, and Renjun admired the fisherman’s brave heart for daring to walk over to the door and open it, revealing the sight of nothing more than the lantern having fallen off its hook, clattered to the ground, candle extinguished and wax splattered against its glass. 

“Shit! Man,” the barkeeper cursed, jumping out of his seat to, against all expectations, bolt towards the door, slamming it shut and locking it with the heavy latch. Little more than a wooden board held in place by two latches, it would be difficult enough to break down without disturbing them anyways. Hit by a bout of paranoia, the dark haired moved around the room, checking window covers and peeping into the bedroom too to make sure it was secure, and Renjun couldn’t blame him. Originally he had thought himself to snap first, go crazy with hallucinations, haunted by his thoughts, memories, and these very woods, he hadn’t considered them to be like that. Cruelly enough it was calming, to know it was not him alone who was feeling horrendous under these circumstances.

Jaemin, across the room, shot Renjun a compassionate smile before going back to checking on their food, a gesture so telling of his stress relief, had the brunet feeling bad to not have realized earlier, the very fact that Jaemin was suppressing his worries by projecting it into care towards others. So long as he had someone to frenzy over or care about, there was less need to indulge one’s own worries. It was the same as Mark and his protective senses, trying to safeguard what and who he could to not have to feel helpless and compromised.

Against all odds, it didn’t mean that he doubted their affections, that much Renjun was oddly certain off, that whatever they were feeling for him wasn’t just a fluke to distract themselves from their insecurities. They meant it, braveness amplified by their weird situation, and albeit there were so many startling and uncomfortable moments, he couldn’t feel regret towards his own situation. There were a lot of things he had realized, confessed and gotten to know, leaving only the mystery of Jeno’s disappearance unsolved, creeping him out, an objective he hadn’t lost track of just because his heart had been thrown onto a boat setting sail towards the stormy raging sea.

Perhaps for they were still spooked, they ate their dinner mostly in silence, save the one or another comment about how the cottage was creepy, how they were glad to have found a place to sleep sheltered from the rain that hadn’t stopped falling so far. The opposite, it had picked up on intensity, and the noise usually so calming was making Renjun restless. As if it were another omen, telling them something would happen but what it was to happen he could not tell, and it was lighting his nerves on fire, legs jittering where he had them crossed on the couch, empty bowl clutched between his hands as he awaited the other two to finish up.

“Since we’re already staying the night,” he started softly, eyes darting towards the door as if someone might actually intrude at this time, in the middle of nowhere, “Let’s try to go to bed early today. I crave to sleep in a proper bed…” Renjun didn’t want to say out loud that this house was still giving him the chills, a sentiment that seemed to be shared either way.

Jaemin was quick to collect their bowls and rinse them with water, washing off the worst of the stains, whilst Renjun took Mark and their backpacks along to the bedroom. There was another cloth of linen spread out on top of it which he pulled away carefully to not call for another cloud of dust clogging their airways, comforters and mattress bare. As much he had thought, had already contented himself with the idea of sleeping in their bags anyways, all of which he spread out across the covers messily, well aware of that they’d only end up messing them up either way. 

Another door was set at a right angle to the one leading to the living room, another furnace placed in the bedroom. He had been so focused on his little tasks, he hadn’t noticed Mark had brought in more firewood and dry branches to heat up their place of rest too, which Renjun didn’t mind. It was no open furnace this time, was massive and solid, the metal doors just big enough to allow the owners to comfortably stack the wood, covered in unglazed clay tiles it promised warmth, the earthen red a reassuring hue. Doors open it allowed some light to enter into the bedroom, and it reminded Renjun of covering the outlet of the open furnace with the little fencing too, prevent sparks from flying around and possibly setting this cottage on fire, all whilst they were still asleep.

Just like that, it didn’t take long for all three of them to reunite in the bedroom, door closer, fire crackling, and Renjun found unexpected relief in the newly discovered space they had, no longer hitting and kicking the tent as they replaced their jeans with sweats and left their jackets hanging at the footposts of the bed. With the candle placed on top of the furnace, they had a bit of flickering light to navigate about, feeding into his relentless curiosity, it was like a pull, cat sniffing in the air, and before he knew better, he had already pulled open the mysterious door.

Not that it was that mysterious, as anticipated, it was little more than a bathroom with a sink, wooden basin in the corner for bathing, pit toilet, and his own scream resonating through the air. The impact of his behind with the ground he could barely feel, eyes locked on the inside of the door, hook applied to it, cloth hanging down, dripping red and wet, and shocking all at once. 

His own yelling only died by the time he was out of breath, eyes aching from how long he was staring at the same spot without blinking, but he couldn’t help himself. Just like the scarf he had religiously carried with him, Jeno’s jeans and flannel were soaked with blood, leaving traces on the wood, droplets running down crucially slow. Touching it would leave his hands red, scarlet like the scarf, soaked through with blood he couldn’t tell was whose and yet, it was fresh, it hadn’t died, couldn’t be old, was still blood regardless of that. 

Arms came to wrap around his body from behind, heaving him up into bed and into a tight embrace, at the same time the clothes were taken off their hold and thrown somewhere. The basin, based on the angle. But the smears on the door where still there, and Renjun didn’t know where else to look if not the red traces on the wooden planes. Only the steady breathing against his back helped him, a rhythm he subconsciously matched, calming his erratic heart in tandem, and goodness knew what other signs of shock he had when all his body felt like yeast dough, spongy and blown, he couldn’t tell left from right, didn’t know whether he was crying or not, talking or remaining silent, couldn’t look anywhere but the red spots.

“-jun. Renjun. Hey!”

The final yell startled him, gaze torn away from the door to find Mark standing in the bathroom barely lit, candlelight hardly reaching inside, but there the oldest was, holding something, whatever it was. Zeroing in on Mark was easier than the stains, didn’t make him feel quite as restless albeit Renjun had to blink a few times to focus on the older properly whose lips were moving but no sound reaching him.

Jaemin, who he realized was holding him, snapped his fingers in front of Renjun’s face, startling him enough he was able to perceive the barkeeper’s voice, “Did Jeno ever wear a ring?”

“I- No… No, he didn’t…” Renjun stuttered, recalled his best friend calling them inconvenient, remembered the incident Jeno had worn one gifted from his sister whilst chopping wood only to come home with horrible blisters from where the metal had rubbed skin the wrong way. There was only the braided bracelet Renjun had made them as children, his own transformed into a bookmark, Jeno’s still tight on his wrist. “Why?”

Belatedly, he realized the item Mark was holding onto _was_ a ring, glinting silver despite the lack of light, as if it was attracting it, pulling it together and collecting it rather than just reflecting. Without looking, he knew it would be a beautiful piece of jewelry, finely crafted, impossibly thin and yet so sturdy one could smash it against the rocks. Knowing this was weird, he couldn’t even see it properly, wasn’t the one trying to touch it. And yet, uselessly, nonsensically, the second he observed Mark moving his fingers, metal against digit, everything within him started to revolt, as if he was breathing oceanic air again, acid rising up his stomach, and Mark had put it on.

For a moment it felt like the world had shifted two degrees, everything tilting, balance wavering. His body wasn’t his own, his thoughts slapped out of his head cleanly and bouncing off the walls to hit him with whiplash, heart stuttering, dropping, squeezing, hammering like a woodpecker in a tree. It made no sense, there was no correlation, the world of its axis and he blinked. 

Once and Mark was there. A second time and Mark was gone, back on the third, gone with the fourth, and no matter how many more times he tried to blink, squeezing his eyes together and tearing them open again, the other was lost. Disappeared, vanished, just like his sanity within this forest, and all that remained was the tingling of a ring hitting the ground, bright and silent, a quick vibration. Renjun felt sick. Only this time, instead of throwing up, his vision went black as if curtains had been weighed with hammer and steel, dropping down, shutting the world out. He wondered whether Jaemin would be okay. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸

Waking up before the sun had risen was routine after all these years, no longer needing an alarm clock to rise at always the same time, secret given away by the clock hung up in their kitchen. It felt off, lying in his own bed, that was, as if he hadn’t done so for too long, the comfort of his blankets so reassuring, taste of home he had missed for reasons he could not tell. His mind felt cloudy with sleep, cotton replacing his brain, wiry and messy and indecipherable, so it was to be anticipated the entirety of his morning routine was accomplished on auto-pilot, from his visit to the bathroom to heating breakfast while sipping his tea. 

Across the lawn, he could see the shadows of figures moving around the Lee kitchen, it might as well be Mrs Lee who was so used to prepare breakfast for her family members who would get up early, too. Not exactly at the same time as Renjun would, already dressed in a warm sweater and scarf around his throat by the time he saw more shadows join hers. Behind himself, he pulled the door close, hands stuffed into his pockets so he could keep his fingers warm, and behind the window he was facing he could see a figure come up, burgundy tee standing out, making obvious just who it was.

Jeno raised his hand timidly, sluggish from sleep most likely, not yet woken up with the aid of black tea and energized thanks to a hearty meal his mother liked to dish out. Sometimes Renjun imagined he could hear the clutter of their tableware, smell the homey scent of soup and rice, the warmth that came from dim kitchen lamps and flickering furnace lights a stark contrast to the lingering fog reaching out from between the trees, curling forth, clam and light.

For a moment, he raised his hand in tandem to give a wave of his own, smiling at the side of Jeno looking his way for another second before jerking his head, likely because Mrs Lee had called out for him. Any other day he would have felt envious, but things had changed, as if the fingers of time had been pulled five minutes back, tricking everyone, misleading them into believing what should have already happened was not yet time for. It was unsettling, to know something had changed but not being able to name what it was, knowing just the previous morning he’d have felt gloomy and jealous at the sight, now it was tainted by relief, just seeing Jeno standing there, it was spreading gooey ease throughout his guts and further into his body, making him exhale heavily.

Tinkling sound from the forest, wind caressing the leaves, he looked at the trees for another moment, the woods his mother had always warned him of. The furthest he had walked inside had been a few steps, like an invisible wall holding him off, he hadn’t dared intrude deeper, and he had never felt a need to - wished to. They were eerie, with the finger-like tendrils of morning fog that reached out, as if they were a monster’s claw meaning to grab him by the leg and pull him along. So why was it he didn’t feel the same chill anymore, like jumping off a cliff, he had always been so scared of it until he had seen Jaehyun do it first one summer when they were young. It hadn’t been too high of a cliff, the waters below calm and they usually swam the same paths they had stared down onto. 

Jaehyun had jumped first, brave and without hesitation, loud splashing terrifying but his ringing laughter soothing. Cliffs that had been barely more than a two story house had still seemed intimidating when standing on top, and it had taken him a while to get his spirits worked up enough to jump down. The impact had hurt, water surface harsher than he had anticipated, but when he was dared to do the same the following day, he had no longer hesitated, had jumped down, laughing brightly, their joyous sounds filling the air. 

Such sensation was overcoming him now, as if he had already experienced the worst of it, no longer needed to be scared of the woods that were ever so present to him, living merely some dozen yards away. Despite that, they kept giving him the chills, running down his spine like frozen fingers, tickling him in the most uncomfortable ways, creeped out by the fact something as haunting could seem as familiar, and he had to thank a rooster crowing, waking up its owner but startling Renjun.

Quickly he shook his head, tried to clear his mind of the same mist that spread from the forests, and turned on his heels lest he spend another moment dwelling on it. Slinking his way down the hill and between the few houses, he swiftly made his way down towards the harbor where buildings followed buildings, the mayor’s house and the tavern, and a bit further down the little shop he worked at. A few of the lumberjacks crossed his way, finishing up the last of their works before the season was over and the trees meant to regrow. One hundred and eighty-four, a count he could not forget ever, trees shooting up from the soil quicker than should be natural, keeping their woods flourishing, the area the woodcutters worked always green. 

As he reached the store and pushed open the door, the bell above his head chiming, still ringing through the room as he undid the scarf wrapped around his room. The wool he had his fingers curled around a deep red, soft and just the right mixture of well worn and well tended, a color so familiar but not part of his own closet. “Jisung,” he said almost automatically, a sound of something bumping into something from the back room drawing his attention there. “Jisung?” He asked again and pulled on his scarf, no longer a bright red but sated midnight blue, more befitting of his usual colors.

“Renjun,” the young boy answered, popping out from behind a corner, eyes wide and startled behind his glasses, dressed in his woolen coat as he was so sensitive to the cold. “Is it that time again?”

“Yeah…” The older pointed at the little box on the counter, smiling softly as Jisung moved to the front to open and sort it, meanwhile Renjun took the spot in the back room where the manual heating resided, the stack of woods and the oven that was so much less problematic than the electric boiler that, ever so often, liked to clacker loudly after a few hours, heat radiating in a wonky radius, and most his visitors didn’t stay long enough for this to matter. But it mattered to him, to being within the shop all day long and yearning for cozy heat to warm his back to find comfort even in the dull everyday of his work. He craved for it more today than any other day, the same way he craved to curl up in front of his oven at homes after days of heavy rain or snowfall. 

Fire crackling and silenced as he closed the door, he moved to his usual place behind the counter, watched how Jisung sorted through the things making up the order, cardboard box discarded, and leaving for the following tasks of his day. Caring for his sick mother, it wasn’t easy, Renjun knew all too well, and he felt with the boy, more than he could put into words. The most he could do, when feeling so helpless, knowing what it was like to feel so helpless, was to wish for her to survive this summer at least. 

“Injunnie,” a voice chirped, greeting him sooner than he had anticipated. With Jisung gone, it meant Jaemin and him alone in the store, and for once it didn’t give him the chills, guts twisting in distaste at the idea of spending time with the fisherman. The scent so easily associated with the job, of the sea and its habitants, permeated the room but was drowned out by the hint of peppermint by the time Jaemin was closer, and speaking again, “I shall return this to you.” In his hand was the lunch box Renjun had prepared for his father, emptied of its content but safer with the son than father who had so often lost it. 

The younger’s hands were calloused only a few years into this line of work, skin roughed up from handling the nets day by day, would be rough to the touch and contradicting the gentle movements. For someone who looked so sturdy and tough, Jaemin was too soft entirely, and Renjun really wondered how he’d know. He had never been that close to Jaemin, had long since given up on the idea of such possibility. 

“You returned it,” Renjun answered as he grabbed the box and placed it on the table to his right, next to his cup of still steaming tea, the one he had prepared earlier, water heated up by Jisung knowing his habits so well after all these months. Usually now it would be his turn to shoo his guest away, but as he looked up at Jaemin, the words were stuck in his mouth. He didn’t want to send Jaemin away, couldn’t help but want the opposite exactly, such a striking difference to just the day before he had no explanation for. 

Growing up together, spending so much time with each other, Jeno being their strongest bridge, there had been a time Renjun had been flustered by the boy, in between being annoyed by his chirpy and excited ways as child and constant bothering as adult Jaemin had made him flush a bright red. He thought these feelings to have stopped, by the time he had figured what a flirt the other was, running his mouth and hands around the girls visiting their islands with their families in summer, had come to terms with just burying them in the depth of his heart never to be looked at again. What he hadn’t anticipated was for it to resurface so suddenly, yearning almost an ache in his chest, wishing to be closer to Jaemin, as if he had gotten a taste of the younger and was now addicted to it, when no such thing had ever happened in first place.

The younger was still around by the time he reached for his mug, making the clerk’s eyes rise, observing such pretty face. He had been told before that all habitants of their island were pretty, way above the average compared to mainland, and he hadn’t understood what it meant before. Maybe he did now, watching Jaemin’s expression shift, he found appeal in it, could stare at it for prolonged times without getting bored of it, and it was as intriguing as it was scary right at this moment. 

When no words followed, he lightly raised his eyebrow in question, prompting the fisherman to speak, “We’re celebrating Yuji’s engagement later. Do you want to join us? I’d love to see you there, Injunnie.”

 _No_ would have been his standard answer, he didn’t want to participate in any of these events, the motivation to had left him after his mother’s passing. Naturally he had heard about her good news, and he was glad she was able to achieve some piece of happiness for herself again but the idea of being around her and possibly hearing about Jaehyun again… It wasn’t like he had been particularly close to Jaehyun, not closer than to any of the other kids who had disappeared throughout the years, but knowing they had vanished with no trace of their whereabouts was easier to handle than hearing about his throwing himself off the cliffs. Cliffs he had liked to jump off of during summer, never backing down a challenge, and these memories unfurling felt like too much for Renjun.

Regardless that, the denial did not cross his lips as he felt himself merely able to blink up at Jaemin, struggling with himself of what to say. The decision was facilitated, the younger seeming to garner strength from his lack of disapproval so far, and with a light smile he offered, “Everyone else will be there too, Renjun.”

First name properly said, it seemed like Jaemin was bringing out the proper weaponry, utilizing his weaknesses against him as a warm tremble ran up Renjun’s spine, felt the same warmth approach his face. He ducked into his mug quickly, muttering barely audibly into his tea, “I’ll consider it…” Before the younger could follow up on it, ask him to repeat himself or whatever, Renjun schooled his expression into a scowl, glared up at his guest over the edge of his cup. “You should leave now. I’m tired of your sight.” For some reason, his words didn’t have their usual bite.

It must have been something Jaemin picked up on as well, gaze brightening by a bit, little stars dancing in his irises, warm and soothing and mentally Renjun punched them just so he wouldn’t feel sappy about the sight. The fisherman didn’t get a move on, so the older was the one to, without another word, skitter back with his chair and go to the room behind, where he could settle on the counter beneath the stairs leading to the upper floor, where the Parks lived and Jisung’s ill mother was kept warm. Unseeing but listening, he noticed Jaemin remained a bit longer, had to physically hold himself back from leaning forward to catch a sight of the younger, and with delay the creaking of the floorboards followed as the visitor moved, the movements of the door accompanied by the chiming of the bell hung above, and only the impression of Jaemin’s shy smile remained engraved to his mind. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

It was already dark by the time he closed the shop’s door behind himself, the concrete path he stepped onto framed by the waves crashing with nightly vigor against its one side, only illumination stemming from the lights of the pub, lantern hung up on the outside. There had once been a lamp but after the last storm it had malfunctioned, damage greater than its benefit, and the old Lee had declared they return to the traditional lights, at least for outside, and there it was, swaying in the wind. Fog and rain, the dimming light, it would be more befitting it, the hazy light of misty air, distant light, interrupted by dark figures framing and hiding it, like an eerie forest at night.

Such imaginative scenery would not have been befitting of the few people standing outside, some of which Renjun found easy to discern even from the distance. Johnny stood tall, cigarette in his hand, a glowing point of red standing out with the lacking light, accompanied by Taeyong and Mark, the latter occupied with the same task. It didn’t fit Mark whose lips had never once tasted of tobacco and- Renjun halted his own thoughts, frowning lightly at the idea of what he had just come up with. He hadn’t ever kissed anyone before, the most he could count was drinking from the same cup as had Jeno, but there hadn’t been immediate contact. Broken heart, sick mother, he hadn’t had the time too.

Burning like the tip of the cigarette, glowing embers, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him as he stepped closer, intense enough to make him flush and duck his head, and Renjun forcefully tried to deter his own thoughts. If the brothers stood outside despite the busy time, it must mean Jeno or Jaemin or possibly both had jumped in to man the counter for the few minutes’ time. And making sure it was only a few minutes and a cigarette’s worth was most definitely Taeyong’s task this night.

Despite Mark having been the first to spot him, it was Johnny to make the first move, big hand waving through the air, cigarette leaving a trail of red and ash falling down. “Jun, hey! Did you finish up? Finally joining us, dude?”

Renjun knew it was Johnny talking to him and yet it was Mark his eyes were on, the light flush born either from the cold or some soju downed, look that was familiar to him for different circumstances that lay heavy on his tongue but which he could not file. It was a struggle to look at the oldest instead whose expression was ever so welcoming and open. Normally he would refuse, should have done the same with Jaemin in the morning, but looking at the younger barkeeper he couldn’t bring himself to, tongue like lead in his mouth, throat parched as he swallowed dry, and this time again he couldn’t help nodding his head in agreement.

Without looking he knew the giant’s expression had brightened incredibly, eyes curling and little sun rays spreading along their edge. “Nice, man. Let’s have a drink then, yeah? Just the two of us,” Johnny exclaimed, adding a conspirative wink to these words, as if they weren’t accompanied by the two who would end up inheriting this same pub.

Next to them, Taeyong snorted and rolled his eyes warm heartedly. “Don’t expect me to give you a free pass when you’re treating someone, big one.” He shrugged, arms tight around his own body, and for the first time Renjun realized that while Johnny and Mark had been smart enough to put on sweaters, Taeyong was standing there in his shirt only. The youngest didn’t say a word while slowly undoing his scarf before he handed it over, catching the older’s surprised face but Mark’s was more catching.

“Thank you… I’ll give it back later, just remind me when you come in,” Taeyong promised, at the same time as whose younger brother reached forward to pull up the hood of Renjun’s sweater, covering the smaller one’s head and neck, protecting it from the cold winds. There was a second of silence, sea raging, boats creaking, and from the periphery of his eyes Renjun caught onto Taeyong grabbing Johnny’s arm. “I think we need to go back inside now.”

Regardless of the giant’s protests, the barkeeper moved them back inside, leaving his own brother and the clerk in the chilly weather, engulfed by serenity. At least Renjun didn’t know what to say, it’s been longer than he could remember since he had last been alone with Mark like this - or with about anyone, actually. Feeling awkward was a given, amplified only by his silent wish to not ruin this, more attached to the idea of the other’s affinity than he should be when they had never talked.

“Mark, I-” He started, and whatever was supposed to leave his lips no one would ever know, not when he himself didn’t know. Taste of words eradicated, they heavy drag of literature on his tongue replaced with something else, something lighter and smokey, the sharp spice of tobacco that clogged his nose, the leftover heat that was almost burning against the corner of his lips, tasting like burnt metal. With a start he realized for why, recognized the kiss as one, the familiar but foreign taste, smooth lips chapped from the ocean air and nervous bites, and yet they were like home. Mark felt like home, and Renjun didn’t know why.

Hesitating for all of a second was enough for the older to pull away, forehead against forehead, Renjun finally took notice of warm fingers curled around his nape, keeping him in place and close, when it wasn’t even like he wanted to run away. The space between them was filled with soft murmur, made the younger crave to see Mark’s expression whose eyes were closed and head angled, only his words evident from the lack of space, “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have, like, you know. But you were there… and I was here… And after all that happened, I just- Yeah…”

All that happened… There was nothing to happen when one just lived between work and home, no socializing except for the neighbor kid, no chatting unless there were customers, no joy in life when the important things had been taken away. Something must have happened, something to explain the ache of his heart, the roaring craving for more, the familiarity of Mark’s touch who usually refused to show skinship with most of everyone else. 

A ring dangled from a chain, collided with his chest lightly, a ring that belonged to Mark he figured as he reached to touch it, thumb caressing along the outside, the fine gravure of something, metal impossibly thin, so slim it should deform if squeezed tight enough but as he tried, applying pressure to the surface, he only felt resistance. It cut into his fingers harshly, proving of its tenancy, and the dark haired must have taken notice of his movements, fingers clasping around his, almost as cold as his own from how they must have spent a similar time in the outside already, walking and smoking, kissing and waiting.

“I think your brother is waiting,” Renjun whispered, voice hoarse, he didn’t know why, had drunk too much tea with honey to fall sick, it made no sense. There were a thousand better things to say, something Mark must have been aware of but instead of making fun of Renjun, or putting out a snark remark, he only smiled, and there it was. Another kiss, warm on the younger’s lip, tender and light but radiating heat not only leftover from burning cigarettes. He didn’t hesitate as much this time, angled his head lightly, met the barkeeper’s gentle touch with his own. 

The smile was still lingering on Mark’s face when he pulled back and lowered their entwined hands, ring slipping out of Renjun’s fingers who, instead, found himself dragged along into the tavern, insides warm, lights dim, and the stench of alcohol ever so permeating. There were so many people, almost what felt like being half the island’s occupants, minus the old and too young. Faces he recognized and faces he could barely so sort, there were also some of the lumberjacks he was familiar with, be it for they stayed at the tavern or had become friends with the locals. Slightly, overbearingly, it was becoming too much for him who was no longer used to it, the grip he had on Mark’s hand tightening. In return, he received a compassionate smile and was dragged along further, into a quieter spot, the corner of bar meeting wall, almost resembling an alcove.

A seat for one, it wasn’t welcoming other people much but it was where Mark sat him down before slipping behind the bar where, indeed, Jeno and Jaemin were working. The older of the two gave Renjun a surprised look, attention swiftly claimed by someone else ordering a new drink. If anyone knew of his struggles better than anyone else, better even than his own father, it must be Jeno. Had experienced him at his worst and also at his best, hadn’t pulled away because Renjun had become reclusive and difficult, and he would feel forever thankful for that. More than he could put in words, more than he could ever repay. Later this would mean a proper conversation, just why he had joined when he wouldn’t usually, why he had entered with Mark instead of letting Jeno pick him up, all that and more. In a familial way, it warmed his heart, to know someone cared for him as deeply, and while it wasn’t that he didn’t believe his own father, their time scheduling didn’t match nearly as well the one he shared with the neighbors’ boy. 

Occupying his field of vision was Jaemin, like a window wipe evicting the thoughts of Jeno and home from Renjun’s mind, grin broad and almost splitting his face in half. “Injunnie!” There was joy almost yelled, something that shouldn’t work out when Jaemin’s tone was so tender, as if knowing too much would be simply too much for the older. “You really came!” 

“Almost didn’t…” He admitted honestly, fingers nervously digging into the wood where he had them placed on top of the counter. “But I met Mark and his brothers outside so I just-” Breaking himself off, Renjun sighed, didn’t know how to explain it exactly, how to tell there was _something_ and he couldn’t name it, that Mark had kissed him and he hadn’t refused - had responded! There was a nagging feeling of something, of not knowing how Jaemin would take it, and yet it was smoothed out and over the second the younger boy smiled ever so softly.

“He has that kind of effect, hm?” The dirty blond asked, tone like bathing in hot chocolate, all gooey and warm, lulling one in. Merely listening to it had Renjun relaxing, had turned him willing enough to not pull his hands away as Jaemin covered them with his own, calloused but tender, just like this morning. He was certain they could also feel rough against the most sensitive parts of his body, an idea that had heat coursing through his veins and his head hanging in shame. Regardless of being sober, of not yet having drunk, to have these kinds of thoughts was dangerous, whatmore when Mark was only a few feet away, watching him with caring eyes, as if Renjun was an ice cube that could melt away if not tended properly, a flower wilting or tea rotting, he was something to be watched over, and it made him feel off in so many different ways. 

Without having ordered, his favorite combination of green tea and soju was placed down in front of him, warm to the touch and promising to be soothing when it would go down his throat. Just like the taste of Jaemin’s mint pills which he realized he could taste, belated just like with Mark, not a proper kiss this time, a short press to the corner of his mouth but he felt it. Tasted it. Noticed Jeno’s questioning eyes on himself.

But he didn’t protest, and as he lowered his head to look into his spiked tea instead, he didn’t miss the gentle squeeze of Jaemin’s fingers around his either. There was something, a storm brewing, clouds drawn together, and in the middle of it was Renjun who could only wait and see, wait and feel his heart squeeze tight with affections he had thought to have suppressed and forgotten. Like their trees, ever regrowing, woods never stopping to flourish, he couldn’t help feel them return. On this island, where everything was a bit weird, he considered his heart would be allowed to as well. 

◂ ♦ 𑁉 ♠ 𑁉 ♥ ▸ 

When he came to in the morning, headache pulsing heavily at the back of his skull, it was to the feeling of arms wrapped tight around his waist, keeping him close and trapped. It was a new sensation but it wasn’t, familiar and strange all at once and he wanted to blame it on the difference in size, on how this certain limb was so much heavier and thicker than his mother’s arm had been for him even as a child. As much as he wished it was for that reason, it was not, it was as if he had dreamt about it, something his mind had made up to the point it was tainting reality, poisoning his perception.

The flutter of wings made him open his eyes curiously, met not with the faded light green of his walls but the sight of a bird, singing bird sitting in a cage that would make Renjun’s heart ache with empathy similar to his head, only the door was left open. The gates parted, freedom within reach, the bird did not attempt leaving, and it had the human wondering how similar he was to that little thing limiting its world the way he had done. Except the metal bars and wires trapping him had been built out of his own grief, an entrapment he had created of his own. 

Slowly, bit by bit, he took in more of the details surrounding him, the room that was not familiar to him yet he had evidently spent his night there, neck hurting and chest sore. Bare too, as he realized with embarrassment as he moved to sit up finally, spine cracking with the movement, offended by the unfamiliar bedding that was too soft for his liking. Hitching himself into a proper sitting position meant that arm was falling off his body, skin tan and honeyed, flawless as it reflected the dull light of the morning sun reaching into the room from the outside. 

Sight blurry and eyelids heavy from sleep, Renjun took a while to gather focus sufficiently to trace smooth skin with his eyes, oversized shirt giving away more than it hid, dark hair mussed and face turned into the sheets to escape the light. Regardless of his sleepy state, it took him a split second to realize the one next to him was Mark - the same Mark who had kissed him last night not once or twice, at some point he was certain they had ended up making out during another smoking break outside, the same Mark whose neck was decorated by purple and red splotches. The same Mark who most definitely was not the owner of this room. 

The style along did not give such away, albeit the ruffled curtains and canvas clothes hung onto the closet door could easily, it was the lacking proximity to the sea that did it for Renjun. Living in the tavern’s building meant being yards away from the rustling oceans, hearing the waves crashing every passing minute, sometimes subtle white noise sometimes overbearing echo. Now it was missing, too far away, they couldn’t be so close to the pier and that meant they weren’t at Mark’s place either, yet his memories were too hazy, he couldn’t make it out on his own despite the answer lying heavily on the tip of his tongue.

From what must be downstairs he could hear clattering, the heavenly scent of sugary dough and fat, be it pancakes or whatever had a similar scent, breakfast so unlike his own. He liked hearty dishes, something to keep his stomach full for the most of the day when he consumed almost only tea, some savory dish to give his father strength on the sea. Sweets weren’t too common with him, was not what he was best at whisking up, and now that he seemed to be faced with it, he didn’t know what to think of it.

Voices joined the kitchen sounds, both so familiar but one he had not expected, making him grab a shirt in the passing and pulling it on, head aching with every step, especially those down the stairs. From the speed he had walked with he was out of breath, the alcohol he had drunk the previous night clogging his airways but his state was nothing compared to the heavy exhale of relief his father released, a man who wasn’t usually big on physical contact did not hesitate to pull his son into a tight hug this morning, muttering a weighing, “Thank heavens, you’re okay…”

A confused sound escaped Renjun’s mouth at that, confused by the sight of his father in a foreign house but more so at Jaemin’s state, dressed in sweats and morning gown, no shirt to be seen, chest and throat decorated by the same marks as Mark’s. The younger behaving so casually in his surroundings could mean only one thing, would explain his exact location, and bit by bit the memories returned. Images of Mark kissing him outside, of Jaemin finding them, for some reason it was the three of them kissing, taking turns, drinking more, Mark smoking, and somehow they had ended up at Jaemin’s place. 

Realization of such drove the heat up into his face, to acknowledge what had happened meant confronting whatever weird mess of emotions had lodged itself into the depth of his guts, brains and heart. Looking at his father was easier than trying to untangle the knot, not as bittersweetly heartache inducing as was watching Jaemin. “Shouldn’t you be out on the sea?” He asked, confused, and added with a bit of delay, “Shouldn’t the both of you be?”

“You haven’t heard-” His father started, then shook his head as if realizing that, _of course_ , Renjun hadn’t heard when he had just gotten up. Another weary exhale and the older man parted, then dropped into a chair, seat he must be comfortable with already based on the half empty mug of coffee placed there. “Four girls went missing this morning. One of them was Choi’s so we didn’t head out today.”

Old Mr Choi, the one who organized most of the fisherman outings, sending off the boats between midnight and dawn and welcoming them back too, sorting the fish for what should be consumed soon and what could be used for preservation. After, he usually handed out the fish to the men according to how many mouths they had to feed and stomachs to fill, taking into consideration special requests too. The old man was kind and fair at heart, sometimes a bit gruff in tone and expression as should be expected of someone who had spent almost fifty years on the sea, stopped only because of a bad back.

“When I heard some kids had been missing…” The sight of his own father burying his head in his hands was almost pitiful, and Renjun’s heart ached the more he heard, “I ran home and you weren’t there so I thought-” _That I lost you like your mother_. A pain so harsh and intolerable, all the fright coming along with it was obvious, the idea of losing one more person… Renjun knew his father was a strong man able to cope with a lot of things - being left behind by his closest two people within such short time was not one of them. “Jaemin hadn’t showed up in the morning either so I came here and… Don’t frighten me like this again, Renjun…”

“I’m sorry,” Renjun whispered, his arms coming around his father’s shoulders for another embrace, fingers carefully combing through grey streaked hair. It wasn’t Jeno… Last night, it hadn’t been Jeno to go missing… For whatever reason that was his biggest worry, for whatever reason he felt so much relief, he couldn’t tell. There were things to be happy about - he had his father and his friends, he was safe, had not been one to go missing.

“ _You should be honored her son likes you, selfish boy…_ ”

“ _Quadrupling the price… How reckless of you kids…_ ”

With a jolt Renjun raised his head, looking around the kitchen once but there was no one but them, only a crow with a crimson tinted beak had joined them on the outside window sill. No explanation for the voices he heard, no person to give away their origin. “Did you hear them?”

“Hear who?” Jaemin asked a bit confused, and a second later he placed a plate of neatly stacked pancakes covered with in syrup preserved apples. Demeanor changing instantly, the young fisherman smiled brightly, eyes sparkling with innocent delight, “I hope you will look kindly upon me from now on, Mister Huang. Renjun and I will hopefully spend a lot more time together in the future!”

“The voice-” Renjun started, interrupted only by the creaking of floorboards that had his head whipping around. Looking more tired than any of them was Mark who had just arrived, stepping off the stairs onto solid ground, one hand on the railing, one rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jaemin cooed and placed another cup of coffee on the table, sweetened with sugar and milk based on color and scent.

“There was no voice, Junnie,” the barkeeper stated, a tone of finality in his voice, broken only by his tender gestures, setting down and reaching for the mentioned man’s hand, squeezing it lightly where their entwined fingers hung midair. Something else was lingering within these words, something Renjun couldn’t decipher, and for once he wasn’t sure he wanted to. _Quadrupling the price…_ But Jeno was there, and four girls had gone missing. A week or two, then the letters would arrive, but a scarlet scarf would be well worn by the person who had been intended to. 

Beneath his loose embrace, his father huffed, fork pointing this way then that. “Youth these days…” 

Renjun didn’t realize at first, only when Jaemin looked at his neck with a glint in his eyes he caught on, fingers reaching up to his throat, the sore spots he felt underneath his tips, meaning he must look the same as Mark in his oversized shirt and Jaemin in his lack thereof. Whatever more they had done last night, his father had caught on, and the heat sat high up in his cheeks.

“I don’t care what you’re doing but tell me when you’re gone,” his father demanded, kicking a chair out for his son to sit in, pushing his plate of half-eaten pancakes to the same seat. “Eat up, son. I won’t question you then.” Renjun never obeyed his father’s request this fast, accompanied by Jaemin’s gleeful snicker and Mark’s embarrassed smile. Maybe, he considered, as he felt his feet bump into another and then one and two, three more underneath the table, his father would really see more of them in the future, starting now.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... if you made it until here, you have my full gratitude! If you also managed to figure **everything** out then I'm also quite impressed!! ( if not, you're very welcome to leave me your assumptions in the comments or send some via [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/starrymeis) )
> 
> If you're curious about more - [twitter](https://twitter.com/starrymeis) / [cas fics]() ( you can also find them in the ao3 collection! )
> 
> also, the mentioned family members Jung Yuji and Na Haeryung are former Bestie members but really, really talented so I can only recommend checking them out ❤️
> 
> **the original prompt**  
>  _Dark forest, small town, American gothic au. D has gone missing, and A, B and C will do anything to find him — despite none of them being friends, or remotely found of each other, themselves. How far are you willing to go for friendship? The trees have ghosts living in them, curtains twitch, there are years of unspoken secrets. Maybe a murder or two. B is a changeling. They’re unaware but when ABC stumble across a fairy ring and a completely new world, everything changes. Can they escape themselves, let alone find D? Enemies to Lovers, ABC Poly Ship (+ D too if you like)_


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